


Prelude For A Spinning Mind

by wontaeks (orphan_account)



Category: EXOPlanet, SHINee
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wontaeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been so long since Earth became uninhabitable. Minho could barely remember it anymore. In his mind Earth's forgiving green landscapes and gentle blue seas began to fog, memories growing more distant by the day. Though he had only been able to live there for the first two years of his life, he felt as though he belonged there, back home in "Korea", the land his mother and father told stories about, and whispered about behind their hands when they believed Minho wasn't listening. Minho's mother always told him that is was better that they left Korea behind, that it was divided and unsafe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

                It has been so long since Earth became uninhabitable. Minho could barely remember it anymore. In his mind Earth's forgiving green landscapes and gentle blue seas began to fog, memories growing more distant by the day. Though he had only been able to live there for the first two years of his life, he felt as though he belonged there, back home in "Korea", the land his mother and father told stories about, and whispered about behind their hands when they believed Minho wasn't listening. Minho's mother always told him that is was better that they left Korea behind, that it was divided and unsafe. She once told him that he'd had an older brother, but he was taken and killed by the evil half of the divided Korea they had to leave behind. She said that he was ten years old when they took him, and Minho tried hard not to stare as his mother cried.  
                Minho rolled over on his bed and tried to imagine his older brother, wishing he could have lived long enough to come with the family to Exo when the country was evacuated. Maybe if his brother had come, Minho wouldn't have been quite so lonely growing up. He groaned and shook his head to dispel the thought. Today was his mother's funeral. He didn't want to be burdened by any thoughts of loneliness. The sheets rustled as he pushed himself upright and rubbed his eyes, the eerily hard and cold sunlight from Exo's sun pouring into Minho's room from his thin and tall window. The room was concrete, spacious and chilly. Minho swung his long legs over the edge of his bed, skinny toes digging into the pelt of a silvery-white mountain animal native to Exo's rocky peaks he'd killed as a sort of coming-of-age ceremony six years ago. His pressed white Western-style pajamas clung to his body, and he slowly undid the buttons on the shirt, dropping the garments on the floor. He dressed in a sleepy daze, pulling on sterling gray leggings and slipping on a fur-lined knee-length tunic that was a snowy white, its iridescent silk patterned with faint spiraling dragons, teeth and claws bared. He buttoned the clasp on the tall collar around his long neck, and shook out the sleeves. He stuffed his feet into knee-high leather boots, tucking in his woolen ash-colored leggings. The last thing he put on he first took from a heavy red lacquered box, lifting it gently from its silk-lined container. Morning light bounced dully off its surface.  
                It was a thin circlet of silver, narrow and flat, the family crest etched on the inside where it would always touch the wearer's forehead. Minho placed it on his head, fixing his hair before assuming an air of regality.

                x              x              x              x              x

               It was a sort of genetic mutation, a disease affecting DNA chromosomes. Minho didn't care too much for the details, however. All he knew or cared about was that it killed his mother and so many of the women and would eventually kill him, too, were it to evolve and become airborne.  
                Minho looked on with a stony face as his mother's funeral pyre was set ablaze, the gray-blue smoke wafting in shreds and curls into the clear sky. The flames of the fire licked Minho's mother's cloth-wrapped corpse hungrily, their angry red reflected in Minho's dead eyes. The Buddhist monks lifted chanting prayers, kneeling before the fire in their washed-out brown robes. Minho closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic, low voices. The last woman in his life was gone. He exhaled a weighted sigh and opened his eyes, shifting a glance at his placid father. The King.  
                "Father," Minho said, his lips shivering slightly in the cold.  
                "We'll get through this, Minho." Minho's father clasped his hands behind his back.  
                "That's not what I'm worried about." His breath fogged as he spoke over the monk's mourning.  
                Minho's father nodded his head, understanding. "You're thinking about finding a wife." Minho acquiesced, his eyebrows knitting together. With all the women dying from the strange disease, finding a suitable wife would be quite the task… "I have a friend who has a daughter still. I've talked endlessly with him, and I think she would suit you well. She's not much younger than you, as she is nineteen, and not horrible to look at. I've arranged for the two of you to meet within the month."  
                Minho chewed his lip, incredulous, watching his father out of the corner of his eye. His father stood tall, dressed in heavy white robes, his shining silver hairpiece secured around his dark topknot, marking him as royalty.  
                The fire died down, Minho's mother's ashes were collected into an urn, and the funeral procession began. The urn was placed on a flat palantine, and the old Korean flag was laid over it, white with red and blue. It had been so long since Minho had seen it. The palantine was lifted up, and solemn, grieving drums began to pound. His father strode along beside him as they followed the funeral procession through the capital city. Minho didn't look at the desolate cityscape  with its tall concrete buildings and packed dirt roads, or the long-faced men lining the streets to pay homage to the late Queen. Only a scarce few of them clutched sobbing wives, and only a few of them held the hands of their daughters. Minho stared at his feet and fought back tears, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand.

                x              x              x              x              x

                He closed the curtain to his bedroom, sighing. Minho sat on the edge of his freshly made bed, and furiously scraped the tears out of his eyes. He didn't want to believe his mother was dead. He wanted to wake up the next morning and go to breakfast with her, and watch her tell the cooks they haven't cooked the food right and pull them into the kitchen to show them how real food ought to be cooked. She'd never settled into the royal life in the seventeen years they'd spent as royalty on Exo. In Korea, she'd told Minho once, we were only the president's family. Your father was only the president. But when we came to Exo, we reverted to so many old ways, including the old monarchy.  
                Minho flopped backwards onto his bed, saltwater burning his eyes. He tried to imagine growing up as the president's son, but could only envision himself sitting prim and proper at his father's side in the throne room, listening to reports from advisors. What was a president, anyway? No one ever bothered to explain that part to him. He tried to imagine what his clothes would have been like, but couldn't, only imagining the ancient-looking tunics and trousers, robes and slippers he always wore. Minho turned over onto his stomach and scissored  his legs in the air. So much of his time Minho spent daydreaming he was sure there was something wrong with his head. And at his age, too! He was twenty, he shouldn't bother with stupid things like daydreams. He rapped himself on the forehead and tried to think of things that actually pertained to his life on Exo.  
                Like training. Training was always relevant.  
                Motivated and vaguely angered, Minho got up and took himself to the training ring where he practiced swordplay and martial arts. He pushed open a sliding glass door to the equipment room, shutting it behind himself as he cursed his life. He opened his locker, strapped his sword to his waist, tied on leather wrist guards, and pulled out his leather breastplate. Slipping it over his head, he fastened the ties under his arms and at his sides, pulling it around to make sure it was secure.  
                Minho stepped into the training ring with a stern face, where he found two men, one younger than him, one older than him, sparring with double-edged blades. He watched as they blocked and parried, dodging each other's unforgiving swords with quick movements. The younger, but taller, of the two threw a swing and bit into the leather of the elder's breastplate, leaving a 10 centimeter long divot. There were grunts and gasps as they struck each other, battering their protective gear. Minho watched from afar, sitting on the edge of the raised walkway that surrounded the large hexagonal training ring. When they finished, the younger having been trapped under the elder's foot and sword point, they came to sit on either side of Minho, reeking of sweat and dirt. Jinki, the elder, clapped Minho on the back.  
                "Sorry to hear about your mother," He said sincerely, his round face earnestly sad.  
                Minho shrugged.  
                "She was really great," Tao, the younger, added. He stabbed his sword into the dirt of the ring, looking forlornly at the ground. Jinki nodded in agreement.  
                "Thanks, you guys." Minho pressed his mouth into a thin line, his eyes dully sorrowful.  
                Feeling the weightiness of the conversation, Jinki jumped up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Hey Minho, want to spar with me since I won last match?" Jinki struck a ridiculous pose, and Minho's despondent mask cracked a twitching hint at a smile. "I saw that smile!" Jinki winked, and Tao laughed.  
                "Go on, Minho," Tao urged, pushing Minho upright and into the ring. "Show hyung what you're made of. Then let's go out for drinks at Rolling Buffalo." Tao chuckled, and stood up to sheath his sword.  
                "That's a good idea, Tao." Jinki nodded, and Minho pulled his sword from its scabbard.  
                "Sounds good to me, too," Minho exhaled, giving a slight lopsided smile. "Want to spar, hyung? Then let's go."

                x              x              x              x              x

                Minho awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare three days later, painfully aware that today was the day he met his bride-to-be. Hwang Yunseo. Today they would set the wedding date, and today they'd begin living together. Minho rubbed his eyes and stared at the white light pouring in through his long and narrow window, the icy brightness catching in his eyelashes. Today he'd trade his narrow twin bed for a king-size bed and add to his room a vanity and mirror. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Images from the last night's terror impressed themselves in the backs of Minho's eyelids and he staggered to his bathroom for a glass of water and an aspirin. He tossed back the pill and returned to his room to dress for his meeting.  
                As he was leaving his room, he turned back to stare at it for a long while. It would be fuller with a woman in it, he decided. It would be warmer, too.  
                He let the curtain close over his doorway and he left to the dining room for a simple breakfast. Then he waited. Only half an hour and they would meet. They would meet in the garden, his father had told him; so Minho ghosted into the royal compound's sheltered arboretum where the scarce few flowering plants were kept that survived the trip from Earth to Exo. A stone bench sat empty beneath an immense bent plum tree, white blossoms dropping petals. Minho was drawn to it, and perched carefully on the edge of the stone bench, examining the cuff of his black silk tunic. He picked at a loose thread, killing time.  
                Hearing a rustle, he rose to his full stature, looking up in time to see his new wife daintily step into the arboretum.  
                The hem of her long pearl grey dress brushed softly along the ground, her bare feet peeping out every once in a while. Her long Celtic reminiscent sleeves fluttered with her motions as she moved with a dance-like grace. The sound of her dress fabric rustling seemed to whisper her name with each step she took as she drew closer to Minho. That and the sound of his own heartbeat and breathing was all Minho could hear. _Yunseo. Yunseo_. She came to a stop before him and Minho wavered, struck with a sudden fear. How was he supposed to act around a woman? How was he supposed to act around a woman he thought of in a romantic way? He cleared his throat, but Yunseo spoke first, her voice light and soft like honey.  
                "You're a lot taller than I imagined."  
                Minho laughed awkwardly. "You're much prettier than I imagined," he returned, flicking his eyes everywhere but her face.  
                She watched him squirm with a warm smile. "It's okay to look at me," she said, fidgeting with her dress. "You might want to, since it's a face you'll be living with."  
                Minho steeled himself and looked her square in the pretty face, her deep brown eyes boring into his chin. Indeed, she was the most striking girl he'd ever laid eyes on, even though he'd only ever known a scarce few girls in his lifetime. Her hair was long, straight, and black, hanging down past the small of her back, and her skin was pale and smooth, only a few freckles dusting her cheeks. Minho swallowed, his throat dry. "Would you like to sit down?" He asked, gesturing towards the stone bench.  
                Yunseo nodded and situated herself on the bench, Minho sitting beside her. "So," she said, looking as though she wanted to start a conversation.  
                "You're nineteen, right?" Minho asked.  
                "That's right. And how about yourself? I wasn't told a whole lot about you, other than your name." Yunseo pulled her hair over one shoulder and smiled, a dimple forming in her right cheek.  
                "Well," Minho began, his mind blank. Shit, she was so pretty. "I'm twenty years old. I'm training to be a general in the army, I like being athletic, and I often enjoy artistic pastimes such as singing."  
                Yunseo laughed melodically. "Minho-ssi, you're so stiff-sounding." Minho pinkened. "Will you sing for me?"  
                Minho chuckled. "Only if you'll sing with me."  
                Yunseo looked down and blushed, pink creeping up her elegant collarbone. "I'm not very good."  
                "Oh come on, I'm sure your voice is beautiful." Yunseo shook her head and Minho glanced up at the plum tree above them, a single white blossom drifting down. "Hwang Yunseo, do you know the old Japanese song 'Sakura Sakura'?" Catching the little white bloom in his palm, Minho began to sing. " _Sakura, sakura, noyama mo sato mo, miwatasu kagiri,_ " Minho looked at Yunseo with a smile, catching her mouthing along with the lyrics. He nudged her. "You know this."  
                She managed an embarrassed crooked grin and she joined Minho's singing. " _Kasumi ka kumo ka? Asahi ni niou, sakura, sakura, hanazakari_."  
                They ended the song with a laugh and a wrinkled-nose smile, genuinely happy. "See?" Minho beamed. "You do too have a beautiful voice."  
                Yunseo's musical laugh escaped her again and she too looked up at the tree above. "It's funny we sung that under a plum tree."  
                Minho smirked. "It is, isn't it."  
                "Minho-ssi, can we take a walk around the arboretum? I've never been here before, and I've only ever read about these plants in books." She looked around the indoor garden with wide wondering eyes then turned them on Minho to beseech him wordlessly.  
                "Of course," he said, standing. "I forget that some people here on Exo have never seen flowering plants like this before."  
                Together they began the walk through the trees and flowers, discussing the scientific names for them and pointing out especially beautiful blossoms. They stopped to admire a tiered fountain and Yunseo took the chance to slip her small hand into Minho's, the calluses on his right palm and fingers from holding a sword rough but comforting. Minho cast a startled glance at Yunseo, but relaxed when he saw her blissful face. He adjusted their hands so that their fingers were laced, and smiled down at his bride-to-be.  
                "Yunseo," he said wistfully, admiring the fountain still. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"


	2. Chapter Two

His first kiss went a little like this: At first unsure how to approach the subject, he tucked the soft tufts of hair at Yunseo's temple behind her ear and traced her cheek with his thumb, hoping she would catch the drift and make the first move, but when she did nothing but stare into his eyes with a enamored expression, Minho had to take initiative. He leaned in, slowly, gently, and pressed his lips to hers.  
                "I guess this is the part where I get down on one knee and ask you to marry me, right?" Minho said with a smirk afterward. They'd ended up under the plum tree again. Yunseo hid her blush behind her hand as Minho got down on one knee and took her other hand. "Hwang Yunseo," She peeked at his from between her fingers. "I know it's been prearranged, and I know this is our first meeting. But I would like to ask for you to marry me." Minho grinned as Yunseo playfully kicked him in the knee with a bare foot. "Honestly!" He insisted. "I think I'm in love with you."  
                That afternoon, all able hands in the royal compound were dedicated to moving Yunseo's few clothes and shoes into Minho's closet, replacing Minho's twin bed with a king size bed, installing a mirror and vanity in his room, and beginning preparations for the wedding that was to take place in three week's time. Together, Minho and Yunseo visited Minho's father in the throne room, where he was counseling with his advisors, and knelt for his blessing. He was much pleased that the two were a perfect match, and he puffed up his chest with pride for his match-making skills. The two were dismissed and Minho led Yunseo to his room to show her where she would now live. She pushed aside the curtain and they stepped inside. Minho's eyes widened at how drastic the change really was. The room was so much smaller! That night, as they cuddled up together in Minho's new big bed, it hit Minho that this was his new life.  
                This was how he was going to live now. He wouldn't be lonely anymore. Running his fingers through Yunseo's long, long hair, he smiled and breathed in her flowery scent. They talked all afternoon and evening, right up until they crawled into bed, and much to Minho's satisfaction, he found he liked Yunseo for much more than her looks. She was smart, thoughtful, compassionate and kind. She liked to run and sing. Minho hugged her tight. _I love her, I love her_ , Minho repeated over and over in his mind. _This is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with._  
                "Minho," Yunseo breathed, her light sigh ghosting across Minho's neck. "I think I love you, too." She snaked an arm around Minho's torso and Minho felt her fingers dig into his shoulder blade. " _A lot_."  
                There was a sort of desperation in her voice that only Minho's instincts knew what to do with. His body burned as he kissed a trail up her neck and caught one of her legs under the knee and pulled her close. Steadily their breathing grew heavier and soon Minho shifted Yunseo so that he was hovering above her, hurriedly undoing the buttons on her nightgown.  
                He stripped away her nightgown and she pulled off his shirt, her eyes  black and hungry. Yunseo's body was like mercury in Minho's hands; supple and lithe, beautiful and mysterious.  
                Carefully, he explored every inch of it with sensitive fingers.  
                Yunseo's breath was heavy on Minho's neck and her skinny fingers dug into the back of his neck. She familiarized herself with every freckle and muscular swell on Minho's chest, and pressed gently on a bruise on his shoulder from a training match. She inspected all his scars and imperfections, swooning over his weathered skin. He smiled as she ran a pointer finger over a scar on his right cheek. "My friends weren't very good archers when we were little," he said with a laugh. Yunseo giggled and returned to learning the topography of Minho's chest. Minho let his fingers scrape along Yunseo's ribcage and hips, his body burning in imaginary flames. Their hands creeped lower and lower, Minho forgetting his inhibitions and touching the sensitive flesh of Yunseo's inner thigh. Yunseo's breath caught, but she stopped at Minho's waistband.  
                Minho's body pulsated with heat.  
                "I'm not ready," Yunseo admitted, closing her eyes.  
                "Is it your first time?" Minho asked.  
                She nodded, and Minho removed his hands, but still cuddled close to her.  
                "Then I'll wait until you're ready," Minho said with a smile, burying his face in Yunseo's long hair. He wrapped a long arm around her waist and kissed her collar, then her lips, with a tenderness only he could deliver.

                x              x              x              x              x

                Their wedding was small but perfect. It was held on a warm spring day in the royal compound's arboretum, under Minho and Yunseo's plum tree. They said their "I do's" and Minho kissed the bride, sweeping Yunseo off her feet. The reception was held late into the night with much drinking and merry-making under trees lit with festive strings of lights. The next day, they left for a short honeymoon in the mountains, and within the month they were to expect their first child to come by the end of the year.  
                But autumn came and left, and with it went Yunseo's health, as day by day she grew more and more weak. It was tuberculosis that drained her, returning to haunt her from her childhood bouts with it, sending her into awful, bloody fits of coughing and restless, feverish nights. Minho began to spend his days at her bedside, pressing a damp cloth to her feverish head and whispering to her that it'll all be alright, and that they'll raise their baby girl together when she comes.  
               "Minho," she rasped one day, holding tight onto his hand, sweat making her grip slippery. "I promise that I'll survive. I promise we'll raise Iseul together. You and me. I promise."  
                Minho put his big palm over their clasped hands. "I trust you."  
                Not two months after Yunseo made her promise, she began labor for their baby girl, struggling and fighting for both their lives. She started early in the morning, waking Minho. He sat up ramrod straight in his separate bed, the hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end with fear and worry. "Nurse!" He called, summoning the passel of male nurses on standby for this specific reason. Minho knew she was weak.  
                They came bustling in as Yunseo cried out in a feeble voice, her hands twisting pathetic fistfuls of sheet. They blotted at her forehead and set up a miniature operating station, preparing themselves for the worst. Minho clutched at Yunseo's hand, desperately trying to make eye contact with her. He brushed hair away from her face with shaking fingers and kissed her delicately on the forehead.  
                "Princess, you're going to need to push." One of the nurses instructed as supplies were rushed in and set out on a small rolling metal table.  
                "Do as the nurses say," Minho added, his core shaking with fear. Yunseo nodded, and Minho was relieved that she comprehended. "Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to." Yunseo's hand tightened around Minho's in a death-grip.  
                The only female nurse ducked under the white sheet tented over Yunseo's knees to check her progress. "She's dilated," she reported back, frazzled and jittery.  
                "Will she make it?" Minho asked. Somehow he knew this childbirth would not end well. In the past nine months, Yunseo's strength quickly deteriorated, leaving her weak and sickly, confined to a bed. Minho knew she didn't have much longer to live, and the inexperience of the male nurses was no comfort.  
                The head nurse laid his big palm on Minho's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "We'll have to wait and see," he said with a sad, tired gaze.  
                Minho blinked back his tears and squeezed Yunseo's shaking hand tighter.

                x              x              x              x              x

                Minho couldn't see anything, hear anything. Sounds and images washed over his ears and eyes. Her last screams echoed in his mind, and he was handed the warm wriggling bundle of her last memory as a white sheet was thrown over her still open, vacant eyes and white chapped lips parted just enough to show her blood-drenched teeth, sickly red from coughing. She was taken away, and tears finally spilled over in Minho's eyes. He looked down at their child. Iseul. She yawned with pink lips and cooed, and Minho's sob caught on a smile.  
                "You have your mother's face," he whispered to Iseul.  
                He sat on the edge of his bed, rocking her gently. Early morning light streamed in from his long window, washing the child in a white glow. Immense sorrow and infinite joy both swelled inside his chest as he supported the baby girl's head with one hand, tracing her tiny flushed cheekbone with a thumb. Tears still welled in his eyes, but didn't spill, conflicted about their purpose. "Choi Iseul," he breathed, poking her tiny nose with an index finger. Iseul closed petite fingers around Minho's fingertip, her newborn grip firm. "Your mother was a great woman."  
                The head nurse poked his head back in the room, then came to sit on the edge of the bed next to Minho. "We couldn't find a wet-nurse," he said quietly, handing Minho a bottle of baby formula. "So formula is going to have to suffice. She's a healthy baby, but it's going to be difficult without a mother. Not only for the child but for you as well."  
                Minho looked down, offering the bottle to Iseul, who drank greedily. "I'll do my best." Minho gave a half-smile.  
                The nurse clapped him on the back. "I have faith in you, Prince." He smiled. "And don't forget I'm always in the infirmary if you need help."  
                "Thank you," Minho muttered, and the nurse left, leaving Minho alone with Iseul.  
                "Knock, knock," a familiar voice said from outside the room shortly after the nurse left.  
                "Come in," Minho replied, and the curtain to his room moved aside, five men in soldier's clothing filing in. Minho brightened.  
                Smiling gently, they all bowed respectfully as was customary, then crowded around Minho to see the new baby.  
                The five men made up Prince Minho's entourage of covert-op soldiers slash elite subgroup, specially trained and tight-knit like brothers. Jinki was the eldest and a master swordsman, trained since childhood in the art of swordplay. Tao was lean and dark, a martial arts prodigy, and the youngest of the five. Kris, who towered over even Minho, was an archer – but not just that, he was a master of all long-distance weaponry. Luhan was pretty in face but sharp in mind, acting as the group's intelligence and tactician. And finally, Lay was a sort of black-ops for the group, stealthy and sticky-fingered, but skilled in medicine as well.  
                The swords at their sides clanked as they sat down around the new father, clamoring to see the baby.  
                "What a pretty little girl," Jinki crooned, petting the soft, dark peach fuzz atop Iseul's head.  
                "What's her name?" Luhan asked, his eyes bright. Tao watched placidly from over Luhan's shoulder, his dark-rimmed eyes soft.  
                Minho smiled. "Iseul." He said.  
                The five collectively crooned a sigh.  
                "Minho," Lay piped up from his spot where he was kneeling on the floor. "Where's Yunseo?"  
                Minho swallowed and floundered for words. "Um," he choked, looking down. After a long pause, he heaved a sigh. "She's dead."  
                Lay cleared his throat. "…Oh." He fiddled with his fingers. "I'm sorry to hear that."  
                "Me too." Minho muttered, bouncing Iseul.  
                "Is… there a wet-nurse?" Kris asked, leaning up against a bedpost.  
                Minho shook his head. "No. Raising Iseul is going to be difficult." He swallowed dryly.  
                "Good luck," Tao said with a weak smile.  
                Minho nodded. "Thanks."  
                "So," Jinki said loudly, still petting Iseul's head. "When do we get to hold the baby?" He asked with a toothy grin.  
                Minho chuckled, his anguish dissolving. "Here," he said, passing the child to Jinki. "You feed her."  
                Jinki accepted the kid with open arms, gingerly holding her, supporting her little head with a hand. He looked hesitant and uncomfortable, inexperienced with babies. Iseul made tiny slurping noises as her bottle was passed from one hand to another, and Jinki settled into holding the new life. Minho smiled at seeing his child in his friend's arms, happily eating and healthy.  
                "You make cute babies," Luhan commented, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He smiled prettily and folded his arms.  
                "Thanks," Minho grinned. "I didn’t do half bad."  
                "Have you ever held a baby before?" Kris asked, still leaning on the bedpost.  
                Minho nodded. "Sure, lots of times. People love it when I hug and kiss their offspring."  
                Kris smirked, and the company laughed softly.  
                "Hey Minho," Jinki said, catching Minho's attention. "I think she's done eating."  
                Minho looked just in time to see Iseul spit out the bottle nipple and start to squirm in Jinki's arms. Jinki passed her back to Minho, and set the bottle down on the bed.  
                "You have to pat her back now," Lay pointed out, and the other five looked at him with wide eyes.  
                "How do you know that?" Tao asked, sitting back.  
                Lay scratched his head. "I wanted to be a nurse before I happened into uh… petty theft. I did a lot of studying."  
                Minho put Iseul on his shoulder and gently patted her back, remembering Lay's story.  
                Before Minho had met Lay ten years before, Lay had been homeless, having lost both his parents in a skirmish with a North Korean spy. The nurses at the capital's public infirmary took him in when he was only five years old, a year after his parents were killed, raising him to work in the medical field. Lay loved it, until he began to realize that the funding at the infirmary was dwindling, and the nurses there could no longer afford to take care of him. Frightened, he ran away, and began stealing from people in marketplaces and public gatherings, sleeping at night on park benches or in damp alleyways. During that time, he discovered that his true skill did not lie in medicine, but in theft.  
                Minho sighed and came back to the present, Iseul having finally burped. Smiling, Minho offered his kid to the other four. "Who wants to hold her next?" He asked, giving Iseul his finger to hold onto.  
                "I will," Kris offered, his face as stony as always.  
               Minho placed the baby in the crook of Kris' arm, and Kris' face immediately softened, a smile creeping onto his face. Kris' finger replaced Minho's, and he rocked from side to side, shifting his weight back and forth from his right foot and left foot, looking tenderly down at Iseul.  
                Tao snickered. "You look good as a dad, Kris," he quipped, and Kris shot him a dirty look.  
                "Minho, how are you going to train, now that you have a child?" Jinki asked, pushing his long light brown bangs out of his eyes.  
                Minho shrugged. "I'm not sure. There's always the infirmary, but I don't necessarily want her to grow up in a hospital."  
                "You could hire someone to take care of her while you're away," Luhan suggested.  
                "That could work." Minho nodded, watching Kris walk around the perimeter of the room with Iseul, letting her slobber on the knuckle of his pointer finger, a soft smile on his lips.  
                Minho remembered when Kris joined his group after having beat Minho in an all-boys archery competition five years ago. Kris was a young trainee for the military, but Minho thought he'd be better off in his elite faction, where his skills could be put to good use. They were sixteen and seventeen, respectively, but Kris wore a deadpan mask even then. Kris came from a middle-class Chinese family, but he was bilingual in Korean and Mandarin, born to a Chinese family and taught in Korean schools as a citizen of South Korea. He was tall, kind, and very handsome, and Minho was glad to see a smile on his face as he coddled Iseul.  
                "Who wants to hold her next?" Kris asked, returning to the bedside.  
                Tao held out his arms. "I do."  
                Kris passed Iseul to Tao, and Tao held her gingerly, peering at her angelic face. Sensing the change in supporting arms, she began to squirm, squealing and flailing her arms. Tao looked confused, trying to shush her and rock her to calm her crying.  
                The other five laughed. "Looks like the baby doesn't like the baby," Kris chuckled, referring to the fact that Tao was the youngest of the six.  
                Tao had grown up alongside Minho in the royal compound, raised by his uncle, who was  a close friend of and advisor to the King. He was taught traditional wushu martial arts, staying true to his Chinese nationality. Minho considered Tao his closest friend aside from Jinki, and treated him like a brother.  
                Iseul wriggled and cried in Tao's arms, and Tao looked ready to pass the screaming newborn to someone else. Almost begrudgingly, Luhan carefully took her from Tao and cradled her, shushing her quietly. He got up off the bed and walked Iseul around the edge of the room, stopping at the French doors leading to the balcony, showing the child the outside world. In a beautiful hushed voice, he began to croon a soft lullaby to her in his native Mandarin, his singing lilting and comforting.  
                "Looks like he's got a way with the little ones," Lay commented, smiling.  
                "I'm surprised," Jinki added. "She's so well-mannered."  
                "Just like her parents," Kris chimed in, folding his arms again.  
                Minho grinned in thanks.  
               He looked at his feet, his heart breaking into a million pieces. Iseul was a new joy, he knew that much, but even still, Yunseo was gone now. Dead. He sighed and steeled himself with the fact that he would never see her again, sick or otherwise. He wouldn't ever hug her again, or kiss her. Wouldn't breathe in the clean smell of her skin again, wouldn't put flowers in her hair.  
                Minho watched Luhan rock his baby girl to sleep, his world shrinking.  
                He was alone again.

 


	3. Chapter Three

                A year after Minho's daughter was born, all hell broke loose.  
                The North Korean army invaded small villages in the tundras of Exo, massacring thousands of civilians; men, children and women alike. And now, their forces were moving towards the capital city and the royal compound.  
                South Korea's armies were in full swing preparing for war, and Minho was in charge of it all. With the first planned battle only three days away, Minho was already mobilizing troops to move out  and set up camps at the battleground. He'd already sent out all the medical divisions, and now he was waiting for the lowest battalions to be ready so that he could assemble them and go set up the trebuchets.  
                After the three days and on the day of the first battle, Minho and his elite five were ready to enter the war, their plan of action set. They gathered in the large tent that had been set up for the six of them near the edge of the battlefield to put on their armor and select their weapons. Minho pulled his heavy polished iron breastplate over his head, tying the leather straps under his arms and at his hips to secure it. The engraved dragon on its front glimmered dully in the low lantern light, and he sighed. Lay and Luhan finished lying their own breastplates, and Kris lifted his over his head, dropping the bronze-colored armor onto his shoulders. Tao was busy putting on his arm braces, and Jinki was finished with his armor, polishing his double-edged sword. All had grim faces. Luhan rummaged in his leather rucksack and pulled out what looked like a transparent clipboard; a heavy sheet of glass with a bar of aluminum with buttons along one of the narrower ends. He pushed a button on the side of the aluminum strip and the glass illuminated cerulean blue.  
                "Guys," he said, beckoning the other five over. "Let's review our plan."  
                Jinki, Kris, Tao, Lay, and Minho all gathered around as Luhan swiftly touched the bright glass screen in several places and twisted the aperture of some sort of lens on the metal end. He slid his finger across the screen, and a hologram map of the battlefield was projected into the air. Luhan set the glass tablet on the ground and backed off, the map growing bigger, stopping waist-high.  
                "So what direction do we move in?" Lay asked, folding his arms and staring at the three-dimensional blue map.  
                "First off, our target is the North Korean army's Major. He won't be on the battlefield for this fight, so our aim is his quarters, which are located here." Luhan pointed with two fingers at a tent in a copse of trees, and the group nodded.  
                "And this is notan assassination mission, correct?" Tao asked in his hushed voice.  
                "That is correct," Luhan answered, nodding.  
                "Capture the Major and bring him back to the royal compound for interrogation," Minho clarified, breaking away from the group and pacing the circumference of the circle of five men, snagging his sword off the top of a crate and tying the scabbard to his belt. "Try hard not to lay a scratch on him. We want him in one piece, he has incredibly valuable information on the North Korean armies."  
                The five nodded, understanding. "We'll split into groups," Luhan continued, returning his eyes to the map. "Tao and Lay will move in from the front, taking out any guards or lower-rank officers, and once the coast is clear, they'll give a signal for the next step of the plan." Tao and Lay nodded, their eyes fixated on the map and where Luhan was pointing. "Jinki and Kris will then move in from the rear and enter the Major's tent from the back entrance, keeping in mind that the Major could be waiting for us. " Luhan looked at Kris and Jinki, and Minho listened from the edge of the room, tying on his wrist guards.  
                "Where will you be?" Kris asked, folding his arms across his chest and resting his chin in the palm of one hand.  
                "I'll be monitoring the mission via headset on the exit route." He pointed to a small path in the trees. "I'll have three electrobikes ready for the escape."  
                "So… If anything goes wrong, we let you know?" Jinki questioned.  
                Luhan nodded. "Let me know immediately, and I'll come up with an alternate plan." He opened up his rucksack again, and handed each person a small, rectangular earpiece. "Here are the headsets."  
                Minho watched as they clipped the small glass devices onto their ears, then turned to throw his cloak over his right shoulder, in the ancient Korean style. "What do we do to talk?" Lay asked, fumbling with his headset.  
                "The button on the side is the talk button, hold it down when you want to say something." Luhan informed him as he took another glass tablet from his bag, and slipped on his own headset, a streamlined pair of over-the-ear headphones with a microphone protruding out from the left earpiece. Luhan adjusted his mic, fiddled with the frequencies on the glass tablet, and held down a button on the right side of his headset. "Testing," he said into the receiver.  
                "Loud and clear," Jinki responded.  
                "All good," Kris added.  
                "Same here," Tao agreed.  
                "Good." Luhan grinned."Then we're all set to go." He turned off the map and put his tablets back in his bag.  
                Minho turned around and smiled nervously. "Good luck," he wished them, his voice faint. "I'm depending on you."  
                Tao clapped Minho on the shoulder, grinning. "Don't worry about us," he said warmly.  
                "Go conquer some foes," Kris smirked, holding up a fist.  
               "Tao, let's go." Lay nudged Tao, and Tao let his hand drop from Minho's shoulder. "We'll be back soon." Lay insisted, bowing to Prince Minho. Tao waved, and they pulled black cloaks onto their shoulders, throwing up the hoods before they grabbed their swords and left.  
                Luhan put on his cloak as well, and smiled before silently leaving to go set up on the exit route. Minho caught a glimpse of the setting sun as the tent's doorflap drifted shut after Luhan, and he was struck with a pang of worry as he realized how close he was to battle. He swallowed dryly.  
                Kris turned his back to put on his cloak, and Minho caught Jinki by the elbow before he could put his cloak on too. "Jinki," Minho said under his breath. "I have something to ask you."  
                "What is it?" Jinki asked, his brow crinkling.  
                "You're in less danger than I am, and… if… if anything happens to me, please take care of Iseul." Minho gulped again. "I want you to be her godfather, hyung." Minho looked at the ground.  
                Jinki stiffened. "Minho, don't talk like that. Nothing's going to happen to you." Minho let go of Jinki's elbow, and Jinki put both his hands on Minho's shoulders. "You'll be fine." Jinki smiled widely and moved his hands to Minho's cheeks. "But even if something does happen, you're my dongsaeng, and I would take care of your child as if she were my own."  
                Minho put his hands on top of Jinki's, smiling. "Thank you."  
                "Let's get going." Jinki patted Minho's cheeks and stepped back, putting on his cloak. Kris was waiting with bow in hand and the tent flap open, and Minho waved as the two disappeared into the darkening evening.  
                Sighing, Minho also exited the tent, striding to the stables to collect up his horse, a magnificent black beast. He swiftly mounted, and was handed a flagpole flying the South Korean flag by a small stablehand. He raised it high and rode out to the waiting troops, tidy and restless in their platoons. The wind whipped the flag about, threatening to tear the pole from Minho's hand. Minho looked from his army, to the rival army on the opposite side of the battlefield where the North Korean flag flew, intimidatingly red and blue. He faced them, his gaze meeting the cold stares of the five Lieutenants leading the North Korean army.  
                Bracing himself, Minho thrust his flag into the air, a hoarse battle cry escaping his chapped lips as the war drums began to pound.

                x              x              x              x              x 

                Kicking his feet up on top of the table, Major Lee Taemin looked down the bridge of his pretty nose at the North Korean army General. "Don't you worry your handsome little head," he grinned, fussing with his pistol, cleaning it gently with a  cloth and checking its ammunition. He put his pistol in its holster. "I've got this fight all under control."  
                General Kim Jonghyun paced the tent's floor, looking back and forth between Lee Taemin and Kim Jongin, the North Korean army's Captain and Taemin's direct subordinate. Jongin folded his arms tightly across his chest, looking sternly at Jonghyun and Taemin from his position beside the door to the tent.  "Are you sure about that, Major?" Jonghyun pressed, his hands clasped behind his back. Taemin's eyes were fixed on Jonghyun's head and his black faux hawk as he cut back and forth in front of the table, wearing a track in the dirt. "Wouldn't you rather be out there, fighting?" Jonghyun cast him a dirty glare.  
                Taemin shook his head, folding his arms behind his head. "Not at all." He wiggled his elbows. "The Lieutenants know everything they're supposed to do, and they'll do just fine executing the plan. Plus Captain Jongin is out there if they need any extra guidance," Taemin shrugged. Jongin sucked in his lower lip and raised his eyebrows, following Jonghyun's pacing with his eyes, hoping to be acknowledged. Jonghyun sighed heavily and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut. He wondered why the hell he even let this kid become Major. He was such a cocky brat. "But tell me again why you can't lead this battle?" Taemin turned the corners of his mouth downward.  
                "We went over this before," Jonghyun exhaled, stopping in his tracks and folding his arms, staring hard and hot at the ground. "I'm testing whether or not you are actually fit for your rank, since you've shown some flakiness in the past. Because you are so young, I believe that you must first exhibit exceptional leadership skills and maturity before you can earn any more trust from me. The same goes for you, Captain Jongin."  
                Jongin looked surprised, and cleared his throat, becoming restless. "General…" He began, shifting uneasily from one foot to another. Jonghyun shot a burning glance at Jongin and Jongin lowered his head.  
                Taemin put his tongue in his cheek, then smiled. "So I need to act like an adult?"  
                Jonghyun turned his glare on Taemin. "That's the idea."  
                Taemin's skin crawled under Jonghyun's stare. "Then consider it done." He took his feet off the table and rose to standing, his head a few centimeters above Jonghyun's. Jongin stepped forward and uncrossed his arms, holding them stiffly at his sides. "General Jonghyun," he said respectfully, then bowed along with Jongin, giving Jonghyun his cue to leave.  
                Jonghyun returned the bow weakly, then straightened. "Don't assume that just because you're in a tent away from the battle the battle won't come to you." He warned before stepping out of the tent, passing the four guards as he retrieved his horse and rode away, beginning the two-hour journey to his own base.  
                As he rode, he mulled over  the conflict as a whole. He hated South Korea for always having the better resources, both in the past and here in the SM-E501 galaxy. He cursed the fact that they were always healthier, but he was glad that he could at least provide his citizens with a structured, safe, and fair government, and that he gave them all equal opportunities for work and equal shares of land. He prided himself for protecting them from rebels and freedom fighters, and any wrong ideas. North Korea was more united that South Korea would ever be, he often thought with a smug grin.  
                He looked up at the darkening sky, the first constellations of the night becoming visible. They have a prettier view, he thought, huffing. The planet North Korea had managed to claim before Japan or India had even thought of evacuating Earth was small, smaller than South Korea's Exo, and had thin air that was hard to breathe. They had a limited water supply and the animals there were scarce and lean, making food hard to find. Exo had everything they needed, and Jonghyun was determined to have it, regardless of what he had to do to South Korea's people or its leaders. He knew that Prince Choi Minho was an unwavering person and potentially a powerful leader, possibly a stronger leader than his father was, but he believed that even the strongest people crack under prolonged pressure.  
                No matter how long it took, Jonghyun was resolved to have Exo.  
                For his people.

                x              x              x              x              x             

                After the sun set and the clash of swords could be heard in the distance, Luhan gave the go-ahead for the five to begin their mission. Lay and Tao, black from head to toe, crept up to the front of the tent, silent and swift. They met with the first pair of guards, who stood like a gate, flanked by electric torches. Tao looked to Lay and Lay nodded, both creeping forward on the guards' periphery. Before the guards could shout or react, Tao put his sword through one's gut, hot blood running down his wrist and dripping onto the ground. Lay appeared behind the other as he was about to yell at Tao, and firmly placing both hands on either side of the guard's head, snapped his neck with a quick twist. Tao and Lay made eye contact from under their low black hoods and moved on to the next two guards, these two standing sentry immediately outside the dimly lit tent. Lay pulled the first guard to the ground and quickly snapped his neck, crouching low to prevent their silhouettes from being seen. Tao did the same, pulling the second guard down and easily slitting his throat.  
                Tao looked to Lay again, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. Nodding, Lay pushed the talk button on his earpiece.  
                "Coast is clear," he whispered into the receiver.  
                "Understood." Lay heard in response from Luhan. "Kris, Jinki… Get ready."  
                On the other side of the Major's tent, Kris and Jinki lay in wait for the signal, Jinki's blade glistening dully in the light of Exo's two moons, Kris' bow drawn tight. Receiving the go-ahead, Kris lowered his bow and pressed his earpiece. "Roger that," he said in a low voice, then drew his bow again.  
                "Guys, don't forget he might have a gun." Luhan added, and everyone's hearts sped up.  
                They understood, but none wanted to risk replying.  
                "Go," Jinki whispered, and the two burst through the back door to the tent, Kris swiftly loosing an arrow at the single guard by the tent's flap, piercing him through the shoulder. The guard fell to the ground, and Kris quickly nocked another arrow, aiming at the Major as he stood up from his table and drew a pistol from the holster at his side. But before the Major could cock the gun, Jinki was at his throat with his sword.  
                "Drop the gun and we'll spare you," Kris said menacingly, his low voice working to his advantage. He allowed his Chinese accent to creep into the edges of his Korean.  
                A faint sick smile sat on the Major's pretty lips as Kris stared him down. The Major was young, Kris noticed, appearing to be not much older than Tao. His hair was shoulder-length and honey brown, tied in a high ponytail with a small leather cord. "Who are you working for?" The Major asked, his voice youthful and melodic, and teasingly polite.  
                "None of your business," Kris spat. "Drop the gun."  
                Jinki pressed the edge of his sword firmer to the Major's pretty neck.  
                The Major's smile grew wider as he cocked the gun and put his finger on the trigger. "Do you know who I am?" He tightened his finger.  
                "Jinki, ninety to your right!" Kris shouted, and Jinki turned himself and the Major ninety degrees to the right as Kris shot  another arrow, knocking the pistol from the Major's hand. The arrow stuck in the tent wall and Lay and Tao rushed inside in time to help Jinki tackle the Major to the ground and search him for any other weapons while Kris pointed yet another arrow at him.  
                Jinki twisted the Major's arms behind his back, smashing his face into the dirty ground as he sat on the small of  the Major's back. Lay lashed his wrists together as Jinki sheathed his sword and brushed his hands off. Tao pressed the button on his earpiece. "We're moving out," he informed Luhan in Mandarin.  
               "Chinese spies?" The Major screeched as he was jerked upright and standing, then pushed back down to his knees.  
                "No, we work for the capital city." Jinki hissed, snatching up the Major's gun. Lay gagged the Major before he could say any more, and yanked him to his feet. The Major glared at the four, his long hair falling partially out of its tie.  
                "Let's go," Kris said in a low voice.  
                "Guys, there's more soldiers coming. They must have heard some commotion. Get out of there, fast!" Luhan's harried voice spoke into their ears.  
                They all glanced around as the Major writhed in his bonds, and Tao responded to Luhan. "Understood. Be there in a few." Tao nodded at the others, and flanked the Major on one side, helping Lay march him out the back tent flap. Kris collected up his shot arrows before following closely behind Jinki, ripping the last arrow out of the unconscious guard's shoulder. He pointed bow and arrow at the Major's back, and Jinki pointed the taken pistol.


	4. Chapter Four

                The two armies charged, screaming with bloodlust, as Minho handed his flagpole to the same little stablehand and tried to ignore the boy's terrified face, drawing his sword. Its unique black blade shone obsidian and crimson in the setting sun as he raised it above his head, signaling the trebuchets to fire. Flaming projectiles shot over their heads, landing in the thick of the North Korean army, and Minho's heart thundered in his chest. He spurred his horse and charged forward, swinging his sword low and decapitating Northern foot soldiers, hot blood spilling onto the ground and dripping off Minho's blade, running down his wrists and smattering his face. Minho could hear his hyperventilation rasping in his ears as he looked out across the battlefield, his eyes taking in the bloodbath. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, Minho's eyes blurring with a gross mixture of blood, tears and sweat as he watched a trainee and friend impaled through the chest with a spear fall to his knees. _This is so wrong_ , Minho's mind screamed.  
                Minho's horse shrieked, and he was pulled back to the fight as his horse collapsed underneath him, a burning arrow stuck in its hind. Before Minho could bail, the horse fell on top of him, pinning him to the ground, along with another dead soldier. Minho yelped, struggling to free himself, his right foot still caught in the stirrup. Finally he pulled his foot loose and staggered onto his feet, favoring his right ankle. Scrunching his nose in pain, Minho doubled over, steadying his breathing and rolling his ankle.  
                Suddenly, Minho whirled around, a coarse yell alerting him of an impending attack. Easily, Minho struck outward with his sword and slashed a North Korean soldier across the chest. The foot soldier fell and Minho rose to his full stature, his chest heaving. With a bloodied hand, Minho tore off his cloak and threw it to the ground, staring down a North Korean Lieutenant who was galloping at full speed toward Minho.  
                "You!" The Lieutenant cried. "General Choi Minho, Prince of South Korea!" He added a sick laugh, stopping his horse and jumping to the ground with a squelch, his boots sloshing mud and blood around.  
                "Lieutenant Joonmyun," Minho greeted him, his forehead crinkling. He recognized the man from newspaper clippings and negotiations he attended with his father.  
                "You know, it's a pleasure meeting you," Joonmyun said sarcastically, pulling his sword from its scabbard.  
                Minho sighed. "What do you want, Joonmyun?" He spat.  
                Joonmyun chuckled. "You planet, of course." He shrugged, and sauntered up to Minho, getting in his face despite how much shorter he was. "Care to hand it over?"  
                Minho shoved Joonmyun with a sneer, making him stumble backwards.  
                "Oh ho ho!" Joonmyun exclaimed, bouncing from foot to foot. "Getting aggressive, are we?"  
                Minho swung his blade, and Joonmyun blocked him, their swords clashing with a sharp sound. "You want my planet?" Minho hissed, pushing down on Joonmyun with his sword, Joonmyun struggling to keep Minho away with the flat of his blade, his face contorting. "You'll have to face me, first!"  
                With a burst of strength, Minho pushed Joonmyun to the ground, yelling roughly. Joonmyun sprang to his feet and Minho parried his blow, jumping back. In a flurry of black and silver, they circled each other, throwing swings and jabs, dodging and parrying, swords clanging and sparks flying. Taken off guard for a single moment, Joonmyun's blade bit into Minho's left shoulder with a gross muffled crunch, driving Minho to his knees. Minho grimaced and felt hot rivulets of blood run down his arm. Gathering his strength, Minho stood up again, stepping lightly on his right ankle, and struck out at Joonmyun, his ebony blade digging into Joonmyun's side.  
                Joonmyun coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood.  
                "Retreat. Now." Minho spoke through clenched teeth, yanking Joonmyun close by his shirtfront.  
                Joonmyun grinned. "Not without my pride!" He seethed, and violently pushed Minho away, Minho's blade ripping from Joonmyun's right side with a wet tearing sound. Joonmyun swayed and threatened to collapse before reaching down a pulling a revolver out of his boot at lightning speed. He cocked the gun and aimed at Minho.  
                Minho staggered, clutching his shoulder. His vision swam and Joonmyun spat out another mouthful of blood. "You bastard," Minho growled.  
                Joonmyun sneered. "Retreat!" He shouted, his eyes fixed directly on Minho, hand shaking. "I'll see you around," he snarled at Minho, and lowered his gun. "Same time next week. We battle again."  
                Joonmyun, with some difficulty, scrambled onto a nearby horse, and with one last dirty look at Minho, rode away, holding his gushing side. "Retreat!" He called one last time before slumping forward onto the horse.  
                Breathing heavily, Minho finally dropped to his knees, his black blade tumbling from his shaking grip. He looked up at Exo's two moons, his head spinning. Dizzily, he fell forward, catching himself with his hands, his fingers squishing in the gory mud. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he fell onto his side, blacking out.  
  
                x              x              x              x              x  
  
                "Has he said anything at all?" Minho pressed, following Jongdae, the head prison guard and interrogator down the long damp hall to the interrogation cells. Minho's left arm hung limply in a sling, his shoulder bandaged, left collarbone healing from the nasty break Lieutenant Joonmyun inflicted.  
                Jongdae shook his head. "No, he hasn't said a word about anything related to the North Korean army."  
                Minho frowned. "You haven't used any form of torture, have you?"  
                "No, sir." Jongdae unlocked a heavy metal door leading to the last stretch of hallway and a descending flight of stairs to the interrogation cells.  
                "Good." Minho sighed. "We won't be stooping to that level."  
                Minho winced, hobbling down the stairs, and they finally arrived at the row of interrogation cells. The hallway was dark and damp, with windows looking into rooms with a P.A. system and another window, this one one-way, looking into the cells itself, a small room with a chair, a spotlight, and chains.  
                "He's in cell 104," Jongdae said, handing Minho the ring of keys off his belt.  
                "Thank you, Jongdae." Minho nodded.  
                He found cell 104 and unlocked the door, switching on the light in the P.A. room. He dropped the keys on the table and plopped down in the rolling office chair, switching on the speaker system.  
                "Who's there?" The Major shouted, and Minho turned to the one-way window, watching the young army officer pull at the chains binding him to the concrete chair in the center of the room.  
                Minho turned on the spotlight in the cell. The Major winced away from the sudden brightness, and Minho leaned close to his microphone and pressed the talk button.  
                "You're awful young, aren't you?" Minho said.  
                "Who are you?" The Major asked, squinting.  
                Minho pushed the talk button again. "How old are you?"  
                "Eighteen."  
                Minho whistled.  
                "Tell me, how did you come to be a Major in the North Korean army?"  
                The Major blinked, his long hair messy around his shoulders. "What are you talking about?"  
                Minho closed his eyes, making an exasperated noise. "We know who you are, Major Lee Taemin."  
                Taemin kicked against the shackles on his ankles. "I'm not in the North Korean army!"  
                "Stop lying, Major Taemin!"  
                "I'm not a Major!"  
                "Who's the head of the North Korean army?" Minho pressed, watching as Taemin looked frantically around the room for any means of escape.  
                "Kim Jonghyun, but everyone knows that!" Taemin slammed his head back against the concrete headrest. "Can I please just know who you are?" He whined.  
                Minho pulled his finger off the talk button and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming. Sighing, he pushed the button again. "I am Choi Minho." Minho spoke firmly into the microphone.  
                Taemin leaned forward. " _The_ Choi Minho?" His mouth gaped open. "As in… Prince Minho?"  
                Minho stood up from his chair and snagged Jongdae's keys, unlocking the steel door to the interrogation cell itself. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, Taemin's eyes fixed on him. He stood in the shadows on the edge of the spotlight, babying his twisted ankle before he sidestepped into the light.  
                "Whoa," Taemin whispered, blinking. "It _is_ Prince Minho." Minho folded his arms, tucking his right arm under his sling. "You look pretty battered, did something happen?" Taemin let his eyes widen.  
                Minho narrowed his eyes. "Are you aware of what happened five days ago?"  
                Taemin shook his head. "No,"  
                "There was a fight, Major Taemin. One that you organized." Minho began to slowly pace back and forth in front of Taemin, Taemin's eyes locked squarely on Minho's face.  
                "I don't know what you're talking about." Taemin shook his head again.  
                "Perhaps you remember where you were that night?"  
                "I was in our tent waiting for the troop to return with food. I'm a freedom fighter, you see? I'm not a Major and I'm not part of the North Korean army!" Taemin squirmed.  
                Minho remained silent, mulling over everything he was just told. Not a Major. No association with the North Korean army. Freedom fighter. Minho knew exactly who Lee Taemin was, but why was he telling Minho lies? "Okay," Minho said after a long while. "I believe you, Taemin. However, since you are a freedom fighter, I would like to keep you here, under surveillance. For security reasons." Minho disappeared out of the light, and Taemin squinted after him. "Thank you for your cooperation." Minho added over his shoulder as he shut and locked the cell door.  
                "Wait!" Taemin called through the speaker system before Minho shut it down and switched off the spotlight. He pushed in the office chair and left the small room, locking the second door behind himself.  
                "Anything?" Jongdae asked as he met Minho at the end of the hall and Minho gave him back the key ring.  
                Minho shook his head. "Nothing." They began to ascend the steps back up to the main level. "He's still denying who he is."  
                Jongdae rolled his eyes and clipped his keys back on his belt. "I'll get him to come around." He said with a smirk.  
                "Thanks, Jongdae." Minho sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.


	5. Chapter Five

                "Minho, are you sure you're okay to fight?" Jinki asked, folding his arms as Lay inspected Minho's shoulder, pulling away the cloth bandage. Minho winced as Lay applied a thick ointment to the gash with a light touch. Jinki leaned against the wooden table in the center of their tent, watching Minho receive treatment.  
                "I'll be fine, Minho insisted as Lay pressed a clean bandage to his shoulder.  
                Lay rolled out the long white bandage and began wrapping it around Minho's shoulder and torso. "How does the break feel?" Lay nodded towards Minho's collarbone as he finished with the bandage.  
                "Still broken," Minho huffed, carefully pulling his tunic back on.  
                "Use a sling," Lay instructed, packing up his small first aid kit. Lay gave a stern look and Minho nodded, snagging his sling off the table and gingerly threading his arm into it.  
                The tent's doorflap rustled open and Luhan stepped inside, his sheathed sword in his hand. "Lay, can I get some compression bandages?" He asked, tying his sword to his belt.  
                "Is it your wrists?" Lay inquired as he reopened his medical kit. Luhan nodded and Lay handed him two rolled-up elastic bandages and two little metal butterfly fastens. Luhan put the wraps on the table and began rolling up his sleeves.  
                "Wrists still weak?" Minho smirked, adjusting his sling.  
                Luhan nodded, cracking a smile. "A little," he said, wrapping his wrists in the elastic and securing the ends down with the aluminum clasps. He rubbed his wrists before rolling down his sleeves again.  
                "Take it easy," Jinki cautioned. "We don't know how hard those Lieutenants are going to fight out there today."  
                It was the day of the second battle—the one Joonmyun called as he left Minho on the battlefield with a broken collarbone. Today Minho and his five would meet the five Lieutenants of the North Korean army, and they would fight, each backed by a small troop.  
                "What are their names again?" Lay asked, standing up and putting his breastplate on over his head.  
                Jinki moved to help Minho put on his own heavy iron dragon-embellished breastplate, being careful of Minho's shoulder. "Well, there's Joonmyun," Minho began, allowing Jinki under his arm to tie the fastens. "and the others are Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Sehun, and Chanyeol."  
                "So there's five," Luhan muttered. "How will be able to tell who's who?" Luhan tied on his wrist guards.  
                Jinki helped Minho to stand. "Joonmyun will look obviously injured, if he's even on the battle field at all. I met with the other Lieutenants this past week for some attempted negotiations, and from what I remember, Baekhyun wears eyeliner, Kyungsoo has really big eyes, Chanyeol is tall and has a twitch, and Sehun has a lisp." Minho groaned. "They're pretty distinct people." He held out his uninjured arm and Jinki tied on a wrist guard.  
                Minho flexed his good arm, and the door to the tent rustled open again, Tao and Kris filing in. Kris went immediately to gathering his armor and dressing for battle, but Tao balked at the door, smoothing down some wild hairs. Minho studied his flushed face with a smirk.  
                "Tao, Kris, did you catch any of that?" Luhan asked.  
                "Yeah," Kris nodded, throwing his bronze breastplate on and knotting the ties.  
                Tao cleared his throat and found his own armor, quietly going about putting it on.  
                Minho spoke up. "We move out in about ten minutes," he informed the group, putting a hand on his hip. There was a chorus of understanding and the crew continued dressing, falling silent.  
                When everyone was ready, Minho held open the tent's flap and they all exited, retrieving their horses from the stables. Minho mounted his horse, and looked at his friends as they rode out to battle together for the first time. Lay inhaled and exhaled heavily and rhythmically, steadying his nerves, clutching the reins of his horse with white knuckles. Luhan had withdrawn into his own mind, staring blankly at his saddle, and Jinki glanced coldly around, a sweat already forming on his brow. Tao and Kris rode close together, Tao's eyes glued on Kris, trying desperately to absorb some of his unfazed demeanor. Perhaps Tao was afraid of the notion of fighting, as he was a pacifist after all, or maybe he was afraid to lose Kris, who was like an older brother to him. Kris, though he kept a stern exterior, looked equally as scared as Tao and the others, eyes glazed over and fingers fidgeting.  
                As the six approached the battleground, a troop of about twenty men fell into step behind them. Tao was handed a spear by a stablehand, and he took it with a ghostly hand. Minho grit his teeth, remembering the massacre from last time.  
                When they reached the battlefield, Minho rode to the front of the group, a cool breeze hitting his face. The air was crisp and clear, the sky a dismal blue-grey above them, giving everything an almost shadowless light. Minho cleared his throat, the troop stopping in unison. "I know that battle is hard," Minho began, his low voice strong. "and I know that many of us are friends, and are close like family. We don't want to lose each other, let alone watch each other die." He took a deep breath. "I don't know how this battle will pan out, but I believe that if we work together and fight hard, we will be victorious!" Minho let go of his reins and thrust his fist in the air. The troop and his five friends cheered, pumping fists in the air. Minho turned his horse around to greet the approaching troop.  
                The five Lieutenants fronted their small troop, riding in a straight line, faces hard. Minho spotted Joonmyun, riding in the center of the line, white as a ghost, and snorted. He didn't think he was well enough to show up, let alone fight. Minho fell into line with his friends and glanced at them. "Go easy on Joonmyun," he whispered.  
                Minho watched Joonmyun raise his sword and look at the other Lieutenants, putting his hand on the hilt of his own sword.  
                "Charge!" Joonmyun cried, and Minho swiftly pulled out his black blade and held it high, signaling his own troop to surge forward.  
                The men on both sides ran at each other, screaming. Minho kept with his friends, leading them to confront the Lieutenants.  
                "We meet again," Joonmyun rasped as Minho, Lay, Jinki, Kris, and Tao circled the five Lieutenants, each facing another save for Luhan, who faltered and flanked Minho instead. Joonmyun smirked. "Are these your officers?" He asked, his chapped lips cracking.  
                "We don't have ranks," Jinki spat, glaring down the Lieutenant in front of him, whom he identified as Baekhyun by the dark black around his eyes. Baekhyun gripped a huge battle axe, a scrap of emerald cloth fluttering from its end.  
                "No ranks?" Another Lieutenant gasped, turning wide eyes on Jinki. Kyungsoo, Jinki recognized.  
                "They're an elite subgroup," Minho clarified. "They're on my level. There isn't a rank high enough that's fit for them." Joonmyun and Minho stared each other down, and Luhan fidgeted behind Minho, then glanced at a Lieutenant who sat with his arms folded atop his horse, the handle of a sai peeking from his boot. He looked at the Lieutenant's face and looked away, then did a double take. He looked so familiar! Luhan cleared his throat.  
                "But it's not fair that you're depriving them of military ranks," the folded-arms Lieutenant said, a lisp tripping up his pronunciation. _Sehun_ , Luhan thought, his eyebrows knitting. He knew Sehun had been a vaguely familiar name, but now after connecting name with face, Luhan couldn't help but feel he knew Sehun from somewhere.   
                "Whether or not I have a rank makes no difference to me," Kris grumbled, pulling his sword from its scabbard.  
                "Kris," Lay warned, shooting Kris a dirty look. Kris lowered his sword.  
                "How is your shoulder?" Joonmyun chuckled, indicating Minho's sling.  
                "Can't be much worse than your side," Minho sneered. "Looks like you're having difficulty breathing, yourself."  
                "You—" Joonmyun hissed, pointing his sword at Minho.  
                "How many days were you passed out?" Minho taunted, his horse becoming restless.  
                Joonmyun rode forward, bearing his teeth in anger. "Are you asking for a fight?" He barked into Minho's face.  
                "If that's what this is going to end up as, then we might as well just get it over with."  
                Joonmyun slid off his horse and beckoned to Minho. Minho jumped off his horse and parried a flying blow from Joonmyun, their horses slowly backing away before running off completely. Sparks flew from their blades as they fought, Minho with one arm and Joonmyun with very little strength. The other Lieutenants followed Joonmyun's lead, pulling out their swords or swinging their respective weapons.  
                With a coarse yell, Baekhyun swung his claymore at Jinki, who ducked to avoid the blow. Baekhyun swung again, lower, and his axe bit into Jinki's horse's side. Jinki leapt off his horse as it screamed to the ground, and tucked and tolled, landing lightly on his feet. Again, Baekhyun heaved his battleaxe at Jinki, but Jinki deflected the blow, lithely dodging the attacks. Sehun pulled out his sword and jumped down from his horse to meet Lay on the ground and exchange a few glancing blows before backing off and circling each other.  
                All around their small skirmish the troops fought, spilling blood and crying out. A few dead bodies littered the ground, stuck through with swords, terrified eyes still wide open. Kris swung his sword at Kyungsoo, who stooped and lashed out with his own sword, its tip barely grazing Kris' bronze breastplate. Gasping, Kris staggered backwards on his horse. His eyes met Kyungsoo's unnerving stare and he grit his teeth. Kyungsoo, with a manic yell, rode forward, slashing at Kris again. They each blocked a few blows before Kyungsoo grabbed the strap of Kris' breastplate and rammed his shoulder into Kris' chest, knocking the wind out of him. Kris doubled over, catching his breath.  
                Hearing the thump of Kyungsoo's shoulder against Kris, Tao whipped his head around, ignoring for a split-second his own fight. His opponent, Chanyeol, shouted to catch his attention again, and Tao turned immediately back, avoiding Chanyeol's sword. His heart raced in his ears and he gulped. Acting on pure adrenaline, Tao yanked his feet from his stirrups and with a surreal fluidity, pulled himself into a crouching position atop his horse's saddle, balancing dangerously. Chanyeol struck at Tao again, but Tao deflected the attack with a swish of his spear, beginning to draw in his martial arts knowledge. His horse whinnied in protest and stamped its feet but Tao ignored it, rising to his feet. Chanyeol's eyes widened and Tao began to spin his spear, his racing mind running through all the motions he learned eight years ago. He abruptly changed directions and caught Chanyeol on the arm with the bladed end of his spear, tearing his sleeve and drawing a thick red line on his upper arm. Chanyeol gasped and lashed out yet again at Tao. Rushing to avoid the attack, Tao leapt off his horse and launched himself at Chanyeol, flipping heels over head.  
                As though in slow motion, his heart pounding in his chest, Tao let one hand off his spear, catching Chanyeol under the chin with the pole. Tao's nose grazed Chanyeol's hair as he front-flipped, brushing it away from Chanyeol's forehead. Tao grabbed the other end of the spear and landed lightly on the rump of Chanyeol's horse, yanking Chanyeol's head back. Chanyeol made a strangled noise.  
                "I don't want to have to fight." Tao seethed into Chanyeol's ear.  
                "You’re giving us no choice," Chanyeol shot back, his deep voice buzzing against Tao's spear.  
                Tao jerked back the spear and Chanyeol gagged, his sword tumbling from his grip as he moved to scrabble at the spear with his fingers, fighting for air. "If your nation had come to us peacefully in the beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess at all!"  
                "I'm not the one who made the choice to attack this planet!" Chanyeol wheezed, and with a burst of strength, slammed his head back, knocking Tao in the jaw. Tao lost his grip enough for Chanyeol to slip his fingers under the spear, taking hold and flipping them sideways off the horse. Tao smoothly broke his fall and somersaulted into a crouch, but Chanyeol tumbled gracelessly to the ground, landing on his shoulder before flipping over and sliding on one knee. Hissing, he squat and massaged his knee, then wiped the blood off his left upper arm, staring at his red-slick fingers as he pulled them away from the gash in his shirt's fabric. He rubbed the blood on his hand off onto his trousers before reaching behind himself and pulling off the strap keeping a crossbow on his body.  
                Tao tossed away his spear, having broken it during the fall. He glanced up and was eye-to-eye with Chanyeol's loaded crossbow. Chanyeol held it at eye-level, his sights locked on Tao. They stood at the same time from their crouches, Tao clenching his fists.  
                At that time, Kyungsoo and Kris tumbled between Chanyeol and Tao, literally at each other's throats with their swords. With wide eyes, Tao watched as Kyungsoo knocked Kris' blade from his hands and tackled him to the dusty ground. Kris caught the edge of Kyungsoo's blade in his bare hands, red blood oozing between his fingers as he tried to keep the sword away from his neck as Kyungsoo pushed forcefully down on him. Swiftly, Kris kneed Kyungsoo in the gut just below the edge of his breastplate, and Kyungsoo rolled off Kris, winded and coughing. Kris jumped to his feet and stepped on Kyungsoo's wrist, forcing him to let go of his sword.  
                Kyungsoo yelped and Tao glanced back up at Chanyeol, who was just as taken with the brawl between them until he realized he was ignoring his own fight, and with lightning speed, aimed and shot at Tao. Tao pitched to his right to avoid the crossbow's arrow, but he was too slow and the arrow stuck in his left shoulder. Chanyeol lowered his crossbow and smiled wickedly, his twitch giving his grin a lopsided, crazed appearance. Tao hissed and snapped off the shaft of the arrow, stepping away from Kris and Kyungsoo as they threw punches at each other with bared teeth.  
                Everywhere, the battle had disintegrated into fistfights and brawls in the mud, abandoned weapons littering the area, horses escaping and shrieking, blood mixing with the dust on the ground. Minho's lungs burned as he gasped for air, having fallen to his knees as a wide-eyes and weak-wristed Luhan took over his fight. His vision see-sawed with exhaustion, and he vaguely saw as Joonmyun dropped to the ground, wiped out, reopened wound spluttering beneath his armor. Luhan took a few steps back and grabbed the reins of his horse again, sheathing his sword, finished fighting.  
                Baekhyun clawed at Jinki's face, sword forgotten, and Jinki pushed him away, pulling a sword from the chest of a nearby fallen soldier, finally utilizing his double-sword skills, triplet gashes lazily dripping blood down his face. Sehun and Lay danced around each other's blows, Lay swinging his sword and Sehun striking low with twin sais, both their motions quick and agile. Minho stuck his sword in the dirt, leaning heavily on the hilt for support as he watched Kris punch Kyungsoo in the nose with a bloody hand, Kyungsoo's head snapping back before he collapsed to the ground, knocked out. Kris shook his hand and looked to Minho before he put his arm between Tao and Chanyeol, pushing them apart before Chanyeol could drive an arrowhead into the side of Tao's skull, his other arm wrapped firmly around Tao's neck in a headlock of sorts. Tao threw Chanyeol's arm off his neck and skittered back, taking a steady martial-arts stance. With a running start as Kris disarmed Chanyeol, slapping the arrowhead from his hand, Tao jumped into the air, scissoring his legs before he slammed his right heel down, kicking Chanyeol squarely in the face. Chanyeol's nose gushed and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.  
                "Enough!" Joonmyun cried, garnering enough energy to raise his head. "You win this time." He gasped. "We retreat."  
                Hearing this, Lay pushed Sehun away and sheathed his sword, and Sehun replaced his sais in his boots. Jinki and Baekhyun stepped away from each other and Jinki threw down his borrowed sword. Kris clapped Tao on the unpunctured shoulder, unintentionally smearing blood on Tao's tunic.  
                "Can we expect a better fight next time?" Minho retorted, swaying, still clinging to his sword.  
                Joonmyun scoffed. "Of course." Baekhyun appeared at his shoulder and helped him to his feet, allowing Joonmyun to lean heavily on his arm. "Let us know when you're ready to fight next."  
                Baekhyun practically drug Joonmyun to a horse, helping him to clumsily mount the saddle. Joonmyun slumped forward, and Baekhyun left to find another horse and throw the unconscious Kyungsoo atop it. Sehun pulled up Chanyeol and Baekhyun helped him to put the incredibly tall man on the horse with Kyungsoo. Blood dripped from Chanyeol's head where Tao kicked him, and Sehun wiped some of it away with his sleeve, inspecting his friend and comrade's face.  
                Luhan helped Minho to his feet and put him on his own horse, patting his knee gently. Minho smiled minutely, his eyes sliding shut from exhaustion. Jinki drug the back of his hand over his cheek, wiping away the blood there.  Tao finally put a hand to his shoulder, and pulled away bloody fingers after touching the broken end of the arrow. "Stings," he muttered under his breath, and the two groups began to move back to their respective camps, Baekhyun scrambling onto the horse with Joonmyun, Joonmyun having fallen unconscious. Sehun grabbed the reins of the horse Kyungsoo and Chanyeol were haphazardly thrown onto, leading the horse and following after Baekhyun.  
                Minho weakly spurred Luhan's horse, and the rest of the company followed after, tiredly dragging their triumphant feet, trying to ignore their dead comrades scattered across the battlefield.


	6. Chapter Six

                The six reached their camp again, exhausted, and went immediately to their shared tent. Luhan held open the door flap and they all filed in, looking like walking corpses.  
                "Who's hurt?" Lay asked as Jinki helped Minho sit on his cot and Luhan flopped down on his bedding, shaking all over.   
                "Tao is," Kris said, pushing Tao to Lay. Tao clutched his left shoulder with a blood-slick hand, quaking and pale as a ghost.   
                "Kris is too," Tao breathed, his voice faint.              
                "I'm fine, Tao." Kris insisted as Lay say Tao down and opened up his big bag of medical supplies.   
                Tao shot Kris a weak glare. "Your hands."   
                Kris sighed, looking at his bloody palms. "I know. I'll be fine."   
                "I'll take care of him," Lay whispered to Tao with a kind smile as he pulled off Tao's breastplate and peeled away his tunic to inspect the broken-off wooden arrow shaft and arrowhead. Lay retrieved surgical gloves out of his bag and put them on,  the latex snapping against his wrists. "I'm glad you didn't pull this arrow out." Lay said, poking at the wound. "You would have lost a lot of blood. Does it sting at all?"   
                Tao nodded, biting his lip as Lay prepared a rag and uncorked a glass bottle of clear wicked. He also pulled out several gauze pads and a handful of medical tools and a small metal tray. Selecting a pair of hemostats and bracing himself, Lay warned Tao of what he was about to do. "It's going to hurt."   
                Before Tao could say anything, Lay gripped the arrow firmly with the hemostats, locking the tool and swiftly pulling out the arrowhead. Tao gasped and Lay pressed the rag to Tao's shoulder, stopping the blood flow. Lay set down the arrowhead and the hemostats on the metal tray and used his now free hand to grab the bottle, peeking under the rag to check how much Tao was bleeding. Wiping away the blood, Lay poured the liquid over the wound. Tao yelped as Lay explained. "Isopropyl."  
                "It burns!" Tao screeched, writhing.   
                "It kills infection," Lay said calmly, his grip on Tao's shoulder firm as he tried to pull away. Lay pressed the rag to Tao's shoulder again a few more times before tossing it away and replacing it with a square of gauze. He taped down the gauze quickly, then pulled off his gloves, rummaging in his bag again for painkillers. "Here," he handed Tao several pills, and helped him the rest of the way out of his red-soaked tunic and to his feet. Tao stumbled to his own cot and retrieved his flask of water, down the white tablets.   
                Tao laid down as Lay cleaned up and bandaged Kris' hands, patched up Jinki's face, and changed the bandage on Minho's shoulder. Everyone discarded their armor and piled it in the center of the tent, rubbing their aching limbs and sighing. Tao put on a clean tunic and Luhan returned the compression bandages to Lay, then they all sunk exhausted into their cots.  
                "Everyone's fight went well, right?" Minho asked, staring at the ceiling of the canvas tent. His shoulder was screaming, and he could tell he'd made the break worse.   
                "They fight dirty," Jinki said from his cot, facing the wall. "That was unexpected."   
                "It was basically a fistfight for me," Kris added, his voice muffled in his pillow. "That Kyungsoo guy looks like a pushover but he can throw a punch like none other."   
                "Lay, the guy you were fighting with was really familiar." Luhan said, sitting up and hugging his knees to his chest.  
                "The one with the lisp?" Lay sprawled carelessly atop his blankets.  
                Luhan nodded even though Lay couldn't see. "Sehun, his name was."   
                "Huh." Lay folded his arms behind his head.   
                "Luhan," Minho piped up, still staring at the tent ceiling. "Thank you for helping me with Lieutenant Joonmyun."   
                "No problem." Luhan smiled, but he was still shaking.   
                "Isn't dinner in a few minutes?" Kris asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.  
                Minho forced himself to sit up, massaging his shoulder. "Yeah," he confirmed, groaning. "And we need to check in on casualties and injured men.   
                There was a chorus of grunts and groans as the other four extrapolated themselves from their cots. Filing tiredly out of the roomy tent, the six men trudged their way to the center of camp where dinner was being cooked and the injured were being treated. As soon as Minho set foot in the camp, the platoon's head officer came up to him with a roll of paper.   
                "What's the damage?" Minho asked as the officer bowed.   
                "Seven dead and eleven injured, sir." The officer reported.  
                Minho nodded, rubbing his chin. "And we started with twenty five, correct?"   
                "Yes, sir."   
                "I suppose that isn't bad," Minho said, and the officer bowed again as Minho dismissed him.   
                After walking through the camp and checking on the remaining soldiers, Minho and the five sat down for a meager dinner of rice porridge and dried meat, all eating hungrily but sluggishly, save for Tao.  
                "I'm not hungry," Tao whispered, his face pale.  
                "Suit yourself," Jinki retorted as he dug into his food, but Kris lowered his bowl and looked pointedly at Tao. Tao pushed his porridge around with his spoon, looking sickly.  
                "Tao," Kris said sternly.   
                Tao shot a glance at Kris. "I've lost my appetite."   
                Kris put his spoon down. "Tao, you need to eat something."  
                "I can't give you any more painkillers until you eat something." Lay chimed in, putting a heaping spoonful of porridge in his mouth.   
                Tao shook his head, pushing his bowl away. He just couldn't stomach all the blood he'd seen as he began to process what exactly happened on the battlefield.  
                "Tao, please," Kris pleaded, putting a hand on Tao's knee.   
                Minho watched placidly as Kris' icy exterior melted and worry crept into his eyes, a sort of shaky warmth exuding from his being. Tao breathed shallowly between ghostly chapped lips, and Kris snatched up Tao's bowl of porridge, throwing one leg over the bench so that he straddled it, facing Tao.  
                "Open up," Kris commanded, holding out a spoonful of porridge.   
                "Kris, I feel really sick," Tao turned away, refusing the food. "I can't."  
                "Eating will make you feel better," Kris said, not moving. Tao continued to refuse. "Please, Tao. Please." Kris beseeched.   
                Reluctantly, Tao opened his mouth, and Kris put the bite of food in, waiting patiently until Tao swallowed to offer another spoonful.   
                Minho scraped the last bits of his porridge from the bottom of his bowl, making sure he ate every last bite. When he was finished he put down his bowl, happily full, and looked at his friends. Luhan was completely engrossed with his rice porridge, Lay was busying himself with tearing his jerky into  a million tiny pieces, and Jinki was gladly receiving seconds. Kris was still patiently feeding Tao, until Tao decided he was starving and tired of being babied and spoon-fed and snatched his bowl from Kris' hands. Kris smiled and returned to his own food.  
                Minho cleared his throat. "You guys did great out there." He said warmly, taking a drink from his cup of water. "For our first fight as a unit of six, I'm proud."   
                "We make a good team," Jinki smiled, speaking through a mouthful of food, his cheeks puffed up with porridge. He nodded vigorously and somehow managed to fit more porridge in his mouth.   
                "I think I'm better off behind the scenes with a computer, though." Luhan added, sipping his water.  
                Lay put down his jerky shreds and looked at Luhan. "Luhan, you were amazing fighting that Lieutenant Joonmyun guy!"   
                "Your wrists are still shaky but you have great form and agility." Jinki said, swallowing. "I was impressed."               
                Minho laughed. "That's high praise, coming from _him_!"   
                "You just got praised by the number one swordsman on Exo," Lay grinned, playfully elbowing Luhan in the ribs.  
                Luhan cracked a smile.  
                "We go back to the capital city tomorrow, correct?" Kris cut in, finishing his meat.  
                "That is correct," Minho nodded, absently turning his cup.  
                Kris mirrored the nod and folded his arms.  
                When the group had finished dinner, they returned to their tent and changed into sleeping clothes, ready to bed down for the night. They crawled into their cots, exhausted but unable to sleep. Minho could tell that Luhan was the first to nod off from the light snoring coming from his cot, followed closely by Jinki, who dozed off soon after. Minho stared sleeplessly at the ceiling, bloody scenes flashing in front of his eyes again. He grimaced and shut his eyes tightly, forcing the images out of his mind. Focusing hard on happy memories of his daughter Iseul, Minho opened his eyes again, hoping he'd driven possible nightmares away. Minho listened intently to the sound of a nearby river rushing by, and his ears perked up when he heard sheets rustling and joints crack. He could tell it was Tao from direction the noise came from, and Minho followed with his ears as Tao crept to Kris' cot.     
                Tao whispered something in Mandarin and Kris' sheets susurrated as Tao was allowed on the cot. Minho listened to a few indiscernible whispers before he heard a muffled sob and soft comforts from Kris. A wave of guilt washed over Minho as he remembered that Tao was the most squeamish and soft-hearted of the group, and he realized that earlier that day along with the night he had to kill those guards in order to get to Major Taemin must have been awful and terrible in Tao's mind. But Minho was glad that Tao had Kris. Even though they tried to hide it, Minho knew what Tao and Kris were to each other. He thought it was strange, but he wasn't going to begrudge them love, brotherly or otherwise and regardless of gender.  
                Minho let his eyes slide shut and soon he drifted into sleep, breathing paced evenly with the rush of water outside.               

                X             x              x              x              x

                When Minho woke the next morning, his eyes gently fluttering open, everything seemed right, oh so right. He inhaled crisp morning air and stretched slightly before it hit him that something was very wrong. He hadn't woken with a start from a nightmare.   
                Minho stared blankly at the ceiling with wide eyes free from sleepiness. _No night terror_. How strange. A bird chirped somewhere outside the tent, and the sound of rushing water faded back into Minho's hearing. He sighed and raised a sluggish hand to rub his eyes, sitting up. His shoulder still ached dully and he groaned, prodding at it carefully. Glancing around the tent, Minho looked at his still sleeping companions. Jinki had his sheets pulled up and over his head, Lay was sprawled out haphazardly atop his cot, limbs tossed carelessly about, and Luhan looked snug with his sheets tucked around his chin. Tao's bed was still empty, and Minho turned to look at Kris' cot, where he and Tao were bundled together, Tao's head on Kris' chest, their breathing synched. Minho sighed at how peaceful they looked,  and waiting a moment before deciding it was time to wake everyone up, Minho swung his legs over the side of his cot and stood up, joints crackling.  
                Minho went to Jinki first, shaking his blanket-shrouded shoulder. "Hyung, get up." Minho said, his voice thick. Jinki groaned and threw away his blanket, eyes barely open and foggy with sleep.   
                "Morning?" Jinki asked simply and groggily, rubbing his eyes. Minho nodded and Jinki grunted. "Damn."   
                Minho shook awake Lay and Luhan next, both of them grimacing at the morning light and sluggishly stretching. He went to Tao and Kris last, peering into their innocent faces and gently jostling their shoulders. Tao bolted upright at Minho's touch with a yelp, pushing away from Kris and sitting upright. Kris' reaction was slower as he sat up, hair messy, eyes misty and face relaxed. Minho grinned and Tao looked back at Kris, who gave a soft smile and brushed Tao's elbow with his knuckles.   
                "I didn't intend to-" Tao began, gesturing back at Kris, who still looked as though he was floating in a doped-up sleepy haze.   
                Minho put a finger to his lips, eyes bright. "No worries," he whispered. "I'll keep it secret."   
                Tao exhaled a relieved sigh and stood up, looking again at Kris before crossing the tent to his own cot.   
                When they were all ready, they broke down camp with the few able-bodied soldiers left, packing up the tents and wooden dining tables, loading everything into electric cargo vehicles that were vaguely reminiscent of early 1900's army Jeeps.  The soldiers helped the wounded onto vehicle marked with the traditional red medical cross and Minho and his five climbed onto horses, following up the automobile caravan when they left the camp site, heading back towards the capital city. The journey was a moderate length, but very winding. They followed alongside one of Exo's many rivers, hugging to its bends and curves, following it back home.   
                By lunchtime they reached the royal compound, entering through the large arching front gate into the main courtyard. Minho and the others rode to the front of the group, hopping off their horses and passing the reins to stablehands that came out to meet them.  
                Looking up after landing lightly on the graveled ground, Minho was met headlong with the chief prison guard, Jongdae. "Minho, bad news," he gasped, breathless from running.  
                "What is it?" Minho asked, taking Jongdae by the arm to steady him. "What happened?" Minho's brow knit in concern.  
                Jongdae took a rasping deep breath before: "Major Taemin escaped."   
                "What!?" Minho barked, grabbing Jongdae by the collar. The other five pressed forward, trying to restrain Minho. "What do you mean, he escaped?"   
                "I-I-I don't know, he just bust through the windows!" Jongdae stuttered, wincing away from Minho.   
                Minho let go of Jongdae's shirtfront suddenly and Jongdae stumbled backwards, tripping as Minho barreled past him, pushing towards the lower-level interrogation cells. He trundled down the steps at full speed, skidding to a stop when he reached cell 104.   
                Sure enough, there was glass scattered on the ground from the windows being smashed and a few drops of blood, probably from the lacerated fist Taemin received from breaking the windows. Minho ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands in exasperation. "Shit!"  He shouted, stomping his foot.  
                Jinki, Luhan, Kris, Tao and Lay all rushed to the scene, followed closely by Jongdae, and stared dumbly at the broken glass.   
                "When did he escape?" Luhan asked, clawing his way to the front of the group, inspecting the broken glass and kneeling to touch the still-wet blood.  
                "We're guessing this morning. None of our guards heard anything, and none of them saw him leave. And there's only one way out of these cells." Jongdae said, rubbing his wide forehead. "I have no idea how he got out, and he'd not anywhere on this level."   
                Luhan put his palm on his cheek, thinking. "Your guard came to tell you that the glass was broken, right?"   
                Minho angrily put his hands on his hips and exhaled a tense breath as Jongdae nodded. "Of course,"  
                "Then that's when he escaped." Luhan said, standing up from his crouch.   
                Jongdae paled and Minho pinched the bridge of his nose. "What a brainless move," Jongdae whimpered, hiding his face in his hands.  
                Jinki peered into the interrogation cell and at the broken chains lying around the concrete chair in the center of the room, then looked at Minho, eyebrows raised. Minho had his eyes squeezed shut, and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Okay." He said, his hand flying away from his face. "We're just going to have to keep moving. We got _some_ information out of him, and that's better than nothing." Minho straightened up and drew a slow breath in, calming the rage that had flared up inside of him.  
                "Are you going to send out any search parties?" Kris asked as Minho pushed past, making his way up the stairs again. The rest of the group followed after him, leaving the mess behind.  
                "No," Minho answered, his voice echoing in the concrete stairwell. "It's not worth it at this point."   
                "He knows where the royal compound is, now." Luhan pointed out. "He'll more than likely take that information to his General."   
                "I know that," Minho spat as he reached the top of the stairs. "We'll strengthen the guard here at the palace in anticipation of when they bring troops here." He turned around, stopping the group. "Kris, we'll need archers stationed on each of the outer walls and lookout towers. Do you have enough men?" Kris nodded. "Good. Luhan, you can get your intelligence unit into the CCTV rooms to monitor blind spots and run radio communications with Kris' men, correct?"   
                "Yes," Luhan confirmed as they began up another flight of stairs.   
                "Great. And Jongdae and Lay, if you two could pull together an emergency militia to stand by for any sort of attack, that'd be excellent." Minho continued, slightly drowned out by the patter of feet on concrete steps.   
                Jongdae and Lay inclined their heads as they received their order, and Minho pushed open the last door. The seven spilled out in to the main halls of the compound, the daylight bright in their eyes in contrast to the dank interrogation cells. Minho held up a hand to block out the obnoxious sunlight, squinting hard brown eyes. Internally he was seething, hot anger burning in his chest. Major Lee Taemin was gone. His only insight into the North Korean army was gone.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

                Gasping, Minho sat up ramrod straight in his king size bed at the palace, sweat dripping down his face, a keening scream still echoing in his ears from the nightmare. Breathing heavily, Minho sat on the edge of his bed and hung his head between his knees, stomach churning. He shut his eyes tight as a scene flashed before them of a splash of crimson blood and a brutal murder. _I can't do this_ , he thought, running his hands through his hair. _I can't take anymore_. He looked out the window at Exo's double moons and guessed it was very early morning, standing up and padding to the bathroom to get a drink of water.  
                He stood in the bathroom's doorway with his pottery cup, mind racing. Leaning on the doorframe, Minho slid to sitting on the floor, arms limp. Coronated? Him? The cup of water slipped from Minho's grasp and toppled over, the last dregs spilling on the floor as the cup rolled away. His father had been dead for a year now, and it'd been five years since the war first broke out, but Minho still wasn't ready for all the responsibility of being King.   
                Before Minho realized what he was doing, he'd gotten up from the floor and was putting clothes in his favorite leather rucksack. He dressed and threw in his bag a switchblade, sewing kit for who knows what, a flask of water, and his flint stones. After absently putting on his boots with shaking hands, Minho found a scrap of paper and writing charcoal, sitting down to write a note.   
                _Jinki_ , he wrote, his penmanship wobbly and timid. _I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please take care of Iseul and make sure she takes her medicine. Don't try to find me._  
                He hurriedly folded the note and tossed it on his bed, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and grabbing his sword. With one last look at his bedroom, Minho left on silent feet, creeping down the hall and out of the royal compound. _I can't, I can't_ , he repeated over and over in his head, tears building up in his eyes. He wasn't ready for the responsibility of the nation. Just the idea of having to sit on the throne and rule the South Korean people made him sick. He could handle the army—that was easy. But also thinking of the happiness of the people? That was too much. Minho slipped onto a mountain path noiselessly, deciding where he was going. The tears in his eyes spilled over and the dead trees he passed blurred in the moonlight.   
                He still didn't want to fight the North Koreans. He never wanted to in the first place. Minho knew North Koreans were the same as South Koreans, they didn't deserve to die just as much as the South Koreans. He hated the way the divided nations treated each other, the way all they did was kill. In the past five years, hundreds of thousands of North and South Koreans had died and it sickened Minho to know that he was the person who gave the orders that caused so many North Koreans to die, the person to give a fatal blow to hundreds of innocent Northern foot soldiers, and the person who failed to prevent the deaths of so many South Koreans. The guilt pressed down on Minho like an anvil on his back, and Minho knew so many citizens blamed him for the deaths of friends and family members. Becoming King would only double the weight and Minho would snap under the pressure.   
                Which is just was the North Korean General wanted. Minho was sure of it.  
                Minho stopped, leaning against a tree. He touched a hand to his face and felt the wet trails on his cheeks, not having realized how much he was crying. His nightmare still pressed itself to the insides of his eyelids, and it made him sick to his stomach. He turned around and braced himself against the tree, gut heaving. It was so disgusting. Doubling over, he vomited on the base of the tree, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. It left a metallic taste on his tongue, but it made him feel slightly better. He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing down the lightly worn path.   
                _I wish I didn't have to do this_ , Minho thought, looking up at the two moons. He felt like such a coward for running away but he just couldn't become King yet. For his own sanity. Scraping away his tears, he thought about his daughter, Iseul, and hoped she would be okay. Minho barely saw her anyway, because he was always gone to fight the war, and when he was home at the palace their contact was limited so Iseul would stay healthy. She was six years old and sick with pneumonia, an illness she'd had for almost an entire year. Minho felt awful that he couldn’t always spend time with her, and becoming King would only amplify that guilt and drive them farther apart.  _I promise I'll come back when I'm ready_ , Minho silently vowed to his daughter, a violent sob catching him by surprise and wracking his frame.   
                The skin on his face felt tight and hot, flushed red from crying. He gasped for breath and turned his face to the sky again, looking at the stars. Minho hugged his arms to himself and tore his gaze from the sky. The cold mountain air pierced right through his tunic, biting at his toned arms and skinny fingers. He began to shiver, and inhaled with a shudder.   
                He looked around and ran fingers through his hair, his heavy breath fogging. Pacing to and fro, he tried to think of what to do next, because he hadn't even contacted who he was going to. Mid-step, Minho heard a large boom. At first he thought it was just a rock-slide at some nearby quarry, but it had sounded hollow and metallic. He stopped and looked around. He spotted a pillar of smoke not far away, and the red-orange glow of a fire. Gasping, he sprinted towards the blaze.   
                He skid to a stop when he reached the site, the warm glow of the fire illuminating his still tear-stained face. Quickly, he took in the scene, observing the burning broken electrobikes and scattered clothes from a bag. _Someone had to have been riding this,_ he thought, glancing around frantically. Anxious that the rider had died, Minho's eyes finally lighted upon a body, some five meters away from the burning vehicle. Minho knelt beside the limp body, inspecting the young man's face. His chest rose and fell with difficulty, and Minho lifted his head into his lap. Minho patted the man's cheek.   
                "Hey," he said, trying to get a response. Black hair stuck in clumps to the rider's sweaty forehead, and he groaned softly. "Hey, can you hear me?" Minho gently brushed away the hair sticking to the rider's forehead with shaking fingers. "Let's get you away from this smoke, okay?" Minho carefully cradled the electrobike rider in his arms, sweeping him up bridal style. He staggered slightly under the weight, but steadied himself quickly. The burning bike's rider gasped at the sudden jolt, his eyes flying wide open with pain. Minho steeled himself and stood up from his crouch, trying to ignore the young man's face. His heart thundered in his chest and he began trekking away from the fire. The electrobike rider's breathing became more and more labored, and Minho felt a hand knot a fistful of the shoulder of his tunic.  
                Winded, Minho found a small clearing with a cave and decided it was sheltered enough to take care of the rider in. He knelt down on one knee, propping up the young man's head on his thigh as he set him down and took off his own pack. He put the rucksack under the rider's head as a pillow and laid him down all the way.   
                "If you don't like this, I apologize in advance." Minho breathed, the rider's milky brown eyes fixated squarely on Minho's worried face. Pulling his switchblade out from his pack under the young man's head, his hands already slick with hot blood, and cut open the rider's dark blue tunic. Minho tore away the fabric to reveal a spluttering gash and bruises, nicks and cuts from shrapnel. A closer inspection brought to attention a shard of metal, lodged firmly in the bleeding gash. Minho looked at the wound with gentle prodding fingers, the rider's breath quickening as he shut his eyes. Minho bit his lip and looked at the wounded's face. "It's going to hurt, but I need to get this piece of shrapnel out."   
                Minho didn't wait for a reply, digging lightly with his switchblade at the scrap of metal, using his other hand to keep the gash from closing. Blood dribbled down his wrists and his fingers glistened red in the bright moonlight, the hems of his sleeves becoming drenched. He grit his teeth at the sight of the gore and focused on the shrapnel, pulling it out at last with a squelch. The rider's arm flew out as the metal was finally freed, grabbing Minho's elbow with a vice grip. He gasped and sputtered, his bare chest sweating. Minho tossed aside the shrapnel and his switchblade and smoothed the rider's hair away from his face, smearing blood on his brow. "I'm going to rip up your tunic more," Minho said, and the rider vaguely nodded.   
                Minho tore a long, fat strip from the rider's tunic, folding it and pressing it to his bleeding side to stop the flow. Minho tore more strips and quickly wrapped the young rider's torso.   
                When he finished, Minho helped the rider to his feet and limp over to the cave to lean up against a boulder. Minho fetched his pack and bloodied switchblade and sat criss-cross in front of the rider, handing him the flask of water. Grateful, the rider drank, wiping his lips with blood-streaked graceful fingers when he was finished. Minho watched, captivated.   
                He was North Korean, Minho could feel it. His blue tunic was a North Korean freedom fighter's uniform, Minho had learned about their organization a bit in the past. Minho looked at the rider square-on for the first time. His cheekbones were high, and his straight black hair was streaked with red. He was slightly smaller than Minho, and lean in stature. His ears were riddled with piercings and his asymmetrical haircut flopped over his left eye. Long eyelashes brushed his colorless cheeks as he weakly screwed the cap on the water flask.   
                "You're North Korean, aren't you." Minho blurted, taking his water flask back.   
                The rider managed a small smirk. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Kibum."  
                Minho wasn't sure if the rider, Kibum, was being sarcastic or if he had honestly thought that Minho just introduced himself. Kibum winced and pressed a hand to his side, and Minho hoped he was being sarcastic.   
                "You jump to conclusions a lot… don't you." Kibum snorted through his pained haze. Minho blinked and Kibum wheezed. "I was a freedom fighter." He gave a weak smile that hinted at his prideful feelings about it. Minho could tell Kibum was struggling to speak and breathe. "Thanks… thanks for—" Kibum coughed and rasped, doubling over, spitting up blood between spasms. Minho moved beside Kibum, and took him by the shoulders, then took his face in his hands wiping away the blood on Kibum's lips with his thumbs. Their eyes locked momentarily, but Minho flicked his gaze away, his face flushing.   
                "Maybe you should lay down and get some rest." Minho said sternly, looking at the ground. Kibum nodded, and Minho released his face. "Here," Minho opened his pack and pulled out one of his spare tunics, a deep spring green silk garment lined with silvery-grey fur. "Put this on."   
                Minho helped Kibum into the tunic, scrubbing off drying blood with a strip of cloth dampened with water as they went. He helped Kibum's feeble fingers fasten the clasp, his hands flying away as soon as he was finished. Kibum slumped over onto his side with Minho's assistance, his eyes sliding shut. A sigh escaped his supple, still blood-streaked lips, and very slowly his breathing evened out, his chest rhythmically rising and falling. Minho watched warily from afar, curled up, hugging his knees. It was then that he noticed his hand were shaking and his heart was pounding. He held his hands out in front of his face, looking at the way his fingers rattled.  
                Minho stood and paced, brushing his damp hair out of his face. His footsteps traced the perimeter of the small clearing, and his fingers brushed against the dead grey trees. Everything was so strange. Minho's shaking settled down, and he rubbed his aching left shoulder, swinging it loosely in its socket. The break from five years ago had never healed properly and it often bothered him, especially after exerting a lot of strength. He wondered if the electrobike fire had died down, and with a quick glance back at the freedom fighter, went to check.   
                The rubble left over glowed softly and crackled, the fire almost gone. Minho breathed a sigh of relief, crouching down next to a small warm blaze , rubbing his hands together to work some feeling back into his cold, stiff fingers. His eyes grazed over the crash scene; the long divot in the dirt, the scattered electric engine pieces, the broken helmet lying a few meters away. A few garments were spilled from a rucksack, and Minho stood to collect them up, laying them over his arm before putting them into the dirty bag. He brushed off some smoldering ashes from the pack, and slung the one still-intact strap over his shoulder. Minho bent to pick up the helmet last, rubbing a bit of dirt off its shiny metal. A blood-streaked, exhausted face looked back at him from the reflective surface, and Minho blanched. _I look awful_ , he thought, running a thumb over the dirty forehead in the reflection.   
                He set the helmet down on top of the charred electrobike, and with one last glance over his shoulder, he left the crash site.           

                x              x              x              x              x

                Minho awoke in a cold sweat, the dream of the massacre still imprinted in his mind. The gleam of South Korean swords and the splash of red North Korean blood that dripped into and stung his five-year-old eyes returned to haunt him, taunting him in his dreams. He rolled onto his side, curling in on himself, heavy breath tightening his lungs.   
                "I can't go back," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not back to the royal compound. Not with him."   
                Awake since sunrise, Kibum had watched the horror on Minho's face as he dreamt, scared for what the dream was about. He inched as close as he could to Minho given his broken state, and gently touched Minho's ear, tucking his soft brown hair behind it, so as to get a better look at Minho's face. "Hey, are you okay?"   
                Surprised, Minho flipped onto his back, Kibum's extended fingers coming in contact with his nose. Kibum curled and retracted his fingers.   
                Minho quickly sat up and rubbed his nose. "I'm fine," he said sharply.  
                Kibum's dark eyes stayed fixed on Minho, concern turning them to almost-black marbles. They rolled around, examining Minho's stained charcoal-colored tunic and the ripped knees of his leggings. "Did you have a bad dream?" Kibum pressed, wishing internally his leg didn't hurt so bad so he could get up and wrap the man whose name he didn't know in his arms. He couldn't get the sound of Minho's scared sobs out of his head.   
                Minho ignored him, standing up. "How's your side?" He blurted.   
                Kibum let his eyes drop. "Hurts," he admitted, pulling himself upright from his half-laying down position.   
                "We should change the bandage," Minho said, beginning to pace. He couldn't get the sound of murder out of his head. Retrieving the pack of Kibum's clothes, he sat down in front of Kibum. "Is there anything you wouldn't mind ripping up in here?"   
                "My prison uniform. It's the white one."   
                Minho pulled out a tattered, grungy white tunic with a wide, unhemmed neck and loose sleeves. He held it up and Kibum nodded, his breathing labored. He tore the garment into strips and helped Kibum out of the green tunic, pulling him up to sit on a rock. Kibum's left leg looked bent and broken, and Minho winced when he noticed it. "We'll have to splint that," Minho huffed. Kibum's head bobbed up and down and he raised his arms a bit to allow Minho to peel the soaked blue makeshift bandage off his bruised torso. Minho tossed the fabric to the side, inspecting the wound. He gently poked at it, Kibum grimacing at the pain. Remembering the sewing kit at the bottom of his pack, Minho determined it'd be a good idea to stitch up the puncture.   
                Minho unraveled a length of thread and threaded the needle, knotting the end. "Kibum," he said. "I'm going to sew this up." He tried to speak with conviction so there wasn't room to argue, but his voice came out weak.   
                "You keep taking care of me," Kibum murmured. "Are you a doctor?"  
                Minho shook his head. "No. But I've studied medicine a bit, and know how to treat someone. It's necessary in battle." Minho poured a little water over the wound and pat it dry, then pinched the gash shut to begin sewing. The shiny needle slid easily through Kibum's red flesh, and Minho pulled the loop tight.  
                "So you're a soldier?" Kibum asked, biting his lip to fight the stinging pain from the needle.  
                "General," Minho corrected, quickly stitching Kibum shut.  
                "But you're so young…" Kibum trailed off.   
                "I'm… I have relatives." Minho cleared his throat. _I'm telling him too much,_ he fret, tying the final knot in the row of stitches and snipping the long ends of the thread with a small pair of scissors. He folded a square of prison uniform fabric and pressed it to the now closed cut, wrapping Kibum's torso so that it stayed in place. "There," Minho said, finishing.  
                "Relatives?" Kibum sounded incredulous as he took Minho's green tunic the rest of the way off. Minho handed Kibum one of his own tunics, another mid-thigh length dark blue freedom fighter tunic. "Can you hand me an undershirt from my bag?" Kibum asked quietly. Minho rummaged in Kibum's bag and passed him a high-necked black elbow-length heavy fabric shirt that had a simple metal clasp at the neck and a tie under the right arm. Kibum slipped his arms into it and slowly tied it shut. Minho helped with the clasp, and Kibum pulled on the blue shirt over his head, its Japanese-style collar letting the black undershirt show. "What's your name?" Kibum asked.     
                "Jero," Minho lied. Chances were Kibum knew his real name, since he was after all royalty. Everyone in the galaxy knew his name.                  
                "That's a shitty name." Kibum remarked. He brushed his black hair out of his eyes and looked Minho up and down. "Especially for someone as good-looking as you. Tell me about yourself, Jero." Kibum's voice was still breathy and labored.   
                Minho rummaged in his pack for his flask of water, taking a heavy swig. "Well, I'm a widower." That much was true, so far.   
                "I'm sorry to hear that."   
                Minho shrugged. "I miss my wife, but you can't bring people back from the dead, you know? She died in childbirth, six years ago." Minho sighed before continuing. "And now my daughter is ill."   
                "Your daughter?" Kibum quipped as Minho leaned against the boulder Kibum was sitting on.  
                "She's beautiful like her mother." Minho sighed, forcing the tears back.  
                Kibum moved his hand from touching Minho's head so he wouldn't play with his hair. "Sounds like you blame yourself for a lot." He scoffed, turning up the cocky to hide his shaking, pained voice.  
                "Of course I blame myself," Minho shot back harshly.  
                Kibum withdrew. "I'm sorry," he whispered.   
                Minho shook his head, dispelling his depression. "Enough about me, tell me about you."  
                Kibum smirked and chuckled. "You know all there is to know about me. North Korean jailbird freedom fighter."  
                Minho snorted, swirling around the contents of his flask. "There's more to you than just that," he pushed.  
                "There isn't." Kibum said sharply, and Minho knew he shouldn't pry.


	8. Chapter Eight

They spent that night at the clearing, and the next day Minho announced his purpose for being in the mountains.   
                "I'm headed for an especially spiritual peak," He said as they folded clothes. "My friend is a monk at the temple there, and I'm on sort of a pilgrimage."   
                Kibum helped as much as he could in his debilitated state, left leg splinted, right side gashed and bruised. "Is that so?" He rasped.  
                "I'm going to take you with me," Minho continued, folding his green tunic that he'd lent to Kibum. "My friend is very knowledgeable about healing and medicine, and I figured he could treat you better than I can."   
                "Are you sure he won't mind that I'm North Korean?" Kibum sat on his boulder, exhausted.   
                "We'll keep it a secret, he and I." Minho assured, cinching his pack shut. He helped Kibum to stand and put the pack on his back, threading his arms into the straps. "Are you okay with riding on my back?" Minho asked, turning around and pointing to his back.  
                "Does it look like I can walk on my own?" Kibum retorted, climbing aboard Minho's back. "My only worry is if you're able to carry me all the way."   
                "Military training prepared me for these kinds of things really well."   
                Kibum wrapped his lanky arms around Minho's neck, and Minho felt Kibum's hot breath in his hair. Minho bent over and grabbed Kibum's pack, then hooked his hands under Kibum's knees.  
                "Ready?" Minho asked, hefting Kibum on his back.  
                "Only if you are,"   
                Minho began his trek with Kibum on his back, following the hardly travelled narrow pathway. The dead forest was eerily silent save for Minho's footsteps and heavy breathing, immense grey surrounding them on all sides. Thoughts screamed and struggled in Minho's mind and he tried to beat them down, ignoring painful memories of Yunseo and Iseul, memories of North Koreans being publically beaten and killed. Sweat dripped down the bridge of Minho's nose. He could never take Kibum to the capital, not unless Kibum gave up his image as a freedom fighter.  
                "Jero," Kibum said, adjusting his arms. "You can put me down if I'm heavy."   
                "It's fine," Minho assured. Kibum _was_ heavy, but not unbearably so. "I can handle it."   
                "How much farther is it?" Kibum rest his chin in the crook of Minho's neck, exhaling a sigh into his ear.  
                "About another kilometer."  
                Halfway through that kilometer they stopped to rest, Minho checking Kibum's splint, both taking drinks of water.   
                By sundown they reached the temple, sweaty, tired and starved. Minho let Kibum down off his back, and let his lean up against the outer wall of the temple.   
                "I need to have a word with my friend before I bring you in, okay?" Minho said. Kibum let his back slide down the wall and he dropped into sitting. "Rest for a bit."   
                Kibum nodded, but said: "You're the one who needs to rest."   
                "I'll be fine," Minho said sternly.  
                He turned and pushed open the heavy door to the temple, scuffling into the spacious courtyard. Light shone from one of the rooms on the perimeter of the empty yard, and Minho followed it, taking off his shoes as he stepped up onto the walkway. He knelt and knocked on the frame of the rare paper sliding door. He received permission to enter from within the room and slid the door open.   
                Minho stood and bowed deeply. "Brother Minseok," he addressed his friend, and Minseok gave a light laugh. He rose from his low table where he was pouring over scriptures to embrace Minho.  
                "Minho, what a surprise! It's been so long." Minseok exclaimed, drawing back to get a good look at his taller friend. "How have you been?" His round face was warm and bright.   
                Minho sighed. "I've been better."   
                Minseok's eyes gleamed with concern under his pointed eyebrows. "You seem trouble." He led the exhausted Minho to his table, pushing him to sit. Minseok situated himself across from Minho and poured two cups of lukewarm tea. "What's up?" He asked casually, sipping his tea.  
                "Minseok, you can keep a secret, right?" Minho leaned forward on his elbows. "Can you help me take care of someone? He's North Korean." Minseok leaned back slightly. "He's a freedom fighter. He crashed his electrobike and his badly hurt."  
                "Is he here now?" Minseok asked, tapping his finger on the tabletop.  
                "Yes, he's resting outside the temple."  
                "Let's see him, then." Minseok said, standing up and pulling his brown threadbare monk's robes tighter about himself.   
                Minho rose to his feet. "Here's the thing, though. I haven't told him my name. I told him I was called Jero."  
                Minseok shook his circular rosary higher up onto his wrist. "Why did you do that?"  
                "Everyone knows who I am. If I said my name was Minho it'd put us both in a dangerous situation." Minho shifted feet anxiously.   
                "That's true." Minseok admitted. "So what story did you give yourself?" Minseok asked as he picked up his candle on its handled holder, preparing to exit his cluttered study.  
                "I'm an army general because I have relatives and I'm a widower."  
                "Sounds a lot like your actual story," Minseok said, pushing open the paper door.  
                "Just make sure to call me Jero." Minho added.  
                Minseok nodded.  
                Minho poked his head out the still open front door, seeing that Kibum was still sitting, fiddling absently with his fingers.   
                "Kibum," Minho said, and Kibum lifted his head, his eyes sleepy.   
                Minseok followed closely behind Minho, poking his head out after him. "I hear you're in critical condition," he said in a soft voice. "Come in to the infirmary and we'll see what the damage is."   
                Minho stepped out to help Kibum, sweeping him up bridal style in his strong arms, like the day before when they first met.  Kibum stiffened, obviously uncomfortable. Minho followed Minseok to the infirmary, a small dim room with walls lined with jars of medicines, and a washbasin filled with cold water next to each low bed in the row of three beds. Gently, Minho laid Kibum on the first crisp white bed, and Minseok set his candle on the bedside table, using its miniscule light to see to turn on a bright electric light. He blew out the candle once the room was filled with a bright white glow. Kibum covered his eyes with a lank hand, flinching from the change in brightness. Minho squinted, and Minseok knelt beside Kibum's bed.   
                "Minseok," Minho said, touching his friend on the shoulder. "I'm going to go pray."  
               Minseok nodded, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves and pushing his rosary up to his elbow. Minho left the infirmary, sliding the door mostly shut. Minseok waited until Minho was far gone to help Kibum strip out of his clothes.   
                "How did the crash happen?" Minseok asked as he unwound the makeshift bandage around Kibum's torso. He inspected Minho's stitches.   
                Kibum stared at the ceiling, realizing just how much pain he was in. "Well, I lost control of my bike while trying to brake, and it crashed into a rock. I don't really remember a whole lot, but I was thrown away from the electrobike and knocked out. I woke up when Jero found me, and I don't know how long I was out for, though I'm sure it wasn't for long. Also, Jero pulled a piece of shrapnel out from my side," Kibum weakly turned to point at his bruised and sewn up side. "and splinted my leg, which is more than likely broken. My head's been pounding ever since Jero found me, and my right wrist has been bothering me, too."   
                Nodding, Minseok took out a pad of paper and a pen, writing down Kibum's ailments. "Okay," he said, setting aside the tablet and rising to fetch a thick roll of cloth. He sat down and unrolled it, revealing a plethora of medical instruments, from tiny picks to scalpels, hemostats to needles and thread, and hacksaws for—Kibum didn't want to know. On the far left was a pen light, which he plucked from its pouch and switched on. "Can you watch this light?" Minseok shone the light in Kibum's eyes, moving it from side to side, watching Kibum's pupils. "Mild concussion," he stated, scribbling something on his pad of paper and switching off his pen light. He moved his kit of instruments off to the side and held out his hand to receive Kibum's wrist.   
                Rotating it around, he watched Kibum's face contort. "Does it hurt?" Minseok asked.   
                "Yes." Kibum affirmed sharply.   
                Minseok retrieved a roll of cloth and a strip of metal, three fingers wide, fifteen centimeters long and warped to fit the palm of a hand. Kibum's wrist was tightly wrapped with these things, and Minseok continued on to tend to all the tiny little scrapes on Kibum's arms and torso, then to remove the splint on Kibum's leg and set it in a plaster cast. Finally he came to Kibum's side and Minho's handiwork.   
                "Nice job, for something done with sewing thread." Minseok chuckled, using a small pair of scissors to cut and pull out the thread.   
                Kibum sighed as Minseok worked. "Jero seems off." Kibum said, whimpering when Minseok swabbed at the now-open cut with rubbing alcohol.   
                "He's a gentle soul who's had a lot of heartache and seen a lot of bloodshed." Minseok said softly, tossing the bloodied swab into a dish.   
                "But why is he being nice to me, even though I'm North Korean?"   
                Minseok began to prod around and Kibum sucked in a breath. "Like I said, he's had a lot of heartache."  
                "But what's that supposed to mean?" Kibum whined, and Minseok began to stitch him up again. "Ah, ah." For the second time in one day, Kibum experienced the strange sensation of being poked with a needle.   
                "I'm sure you've heard about Yunseo." Minseok sat back on his heels. "If you were a father and a husband, you'd understand. M- Jero's lost a lot throughout his life, beginning with his friends when he was younger, then his mother, then his wife. Plus, he's always under a lot of stress because of the war, and it's not helping his mental health in the least. Ever since we were little, he's been plagued by nightmares because we've always been surrounded by death."   
                "He had a nightmare the night before last." Kibum said as Minseok finished the last stitch and taped down a gauze pad.   
                Minseok rolled up his pack of tools and pulled off his gloves, getting up to hunt for pills for Kibum to take. "Did he say anything in his sleep?"   
                Kibum nodded, though Minseok couldn't see. "He kept saying 'No', and he said once 'Let him go, ahjusshi, he hasn't done anything wrong!'." Kibum sighed, remembering the terror in Minho's quiet voice. "He sounded so scared."   
                Minseok halted his medicine search, his fingers slipping off a bottle of valium. "So it was that one." Minseok said quietly.   
                Kibum turned to look at Minseok's back. "What do you mean?" He asked.   
                "When we were five years old or so, before I left to become a monk, we were playing in the street and Minho got caught in the middle of a midday public murder of a North Korean. He brought you here because he's more than likely scared to take you to the capital." Minseok sighed.   
                "Oh." Kibum said, quieting down and letting the pain wash over him. He sensed it was time to let go of the topic. "Hey, do you have anything for this pain?"  
                Minseok shook himself. "Right."              

                x              x              x              x              x

                After Kibum was all drugged up and in a pain-free haze, Minseok helped him to the room he would let both Kibum and Minho room in for however long it was they would be there at his temple. He laid Kibum down on a bedroll and told him dinner would be soon, and left to find Minho.  
                Minseok found Minho standing before the main altar in the temple, hands clasped, lips silently working a prayer for Buddha. Minseok quietly laid a hand on Minho's shoulder and pulled him out of his revelry, smiling gently.   
                "Minseok," Minho said, his hands falling to his sides. "How is Kibum?"   
                "He'll be fine." Minseok patted Minho on the shoulder. "I'll be making dinner now, would you like to go check on your friend?" Minho nodded, and Minseok directed Minho to the room he and Kibum were to share, leaving when they reached the door. "Dinner is in twenty minutes," Minseok said as he turned on his heel and left.   
                Minho slid open the paper door, and found Kibum sitting up on his bedding, staring out the wide and squat window on the wall. "Kibum," he said, catching Kibum's attention.   
                Kibum jumped, slightly startled, and laid a hand over his heart. "You surprised me," he spat, flicking his eyes at the ceiling.   
                "Sorry," Minho apologized, sitting on the floor in front of Kibum. "How are you feeling?"  
                Kibum turned his dark eyes on Minho. They looked foggy and happy. "Great," he breathed. "I wonder what the monk gave me, because I feel like I'm on cloud nine right now."   
                Minho chuckled, fiddling with the edges of his sleeves. "He probably loaded you up on painkillers."   
                "It's great," Kibum laughed, looking out the window again. "Dinner's soon, right? I'm starving."   
                Minho leaned back on his palms. "Minseok said twenty minutes."   
                "Okay," Kibum said dreamily, his fingers fidgeting. "So, um, why are you here?"   
                "I wanted to come check on you."   
                Kibum snorted. "Really?"   
                "Yeah," Minho said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he watched Kibum's face. Something stirred up within him as he stared, taking in Kibum's delicate, milky white features, and Minho felt a rush of heat to his face. This was another man. Pretty men shouldn't make him feel woozy. Minho sat forward and rubbed his face, fighting back the weird thoughts. He stared at the floor and ran fingers through his hair, working out the knots and tangles absent-mindedly. He heard but ignored the rustle of fabric as Kibum scooted closer and hooked his own skinny fingers into Minho's hair, helping to finger-brush it. Minho sucked in a surprised breath, but kept quiet, allowing Kibum to take over the grooming.


	9. Chapter Nine

                A slow week passed. Minho spent his days praying, and Kibum spent his days recuperating. The fracture in his leg healed quickly and well, and soon he graduated into a simple compression bandage. His side, on the other hand, was taking longer. Not many words were exchanged between any of them, even though Minho and Kibum slowly grew closer. At the end of day eight, they ate a meager dinner of rice and fish, and bed down for the night. Minho and Kibum retreated into their shared room, and Minho rolled out their bedrolls, side by side, in a patch of moonlight that poured in from the glassless window. Minho helped Kibum to lay down, then did the same himself, first taking off his dark tunic. The pearly moonlight washed over and illuminated Minho's back with its faded scars and sturdy muscles. Kibum couldn't look away for the short time Minho sat cross-legged on the bed with his head in his hands, his long brown hair shrouding his face. Something about Minho captivated Kibum, though he wasn't sure what, and something seemed very mysterious about him. Minho was mysterious. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a regal air and a pained history, and charismatic eyes giving way to anger, fear, and passion. Kibum stopped himself before he thought any further. He still barely knew the guy. They were just on a friendly basis now.  
                Minho sighed and laid back. "People are going to start looking for me, soon."   
                Kibum stared at the ceiling from his mat. "Why?"  
                "I left without saying anything."  
                "How is that bad?"   
                "I'm important."   
                "That's right," Kibum remembered.   
                "I'd take you back to the capital with me, but…" Minho trailed off.   
                "It's okay, Minseok told me."   
                Minho bolted upright. "What did Minseok tell you?"   
                Kibum was taken aback. "He just told me you have nightmares." Minho exhaled heavily. "And that you watched a North Korean get murdered."   
                Minho laid back down, rolling so his back was turned to Kibum. He pulled the thin blanket over himself, shivering in the cold night air. Wondering what else Minseok had told Kibum, he tried to fall asleep. "Let's not talk about that."   
                Kibum continued to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He wondered who the man lying next to him really was, and he wondered why he was hiding so much. "Jero," Kibum said. "Who exactly are you?"

                x              x              x              x              x

  1.   
                Minseok was already in the courtyard, barring the huge wooden door to the temple. He dashed over to Minho and caught him by the forearm. "Minho, they've sent a search party."  
                Minho nodded. "So I've heard."  
                "Take Kibum and run. There's an electrobike parked by the back exit, take it." Minseok pushed Minho back in the direction of Kibum. "Go. Go now, I'll keep them off."   
                Minho bowed before leaving. "Thank you so much for everything, Minseok."   
                "Go!" Minseok urged, and Minho ran.  
                He burst back into he and Kibum's room, frantically stuffing things back into their packs. He crouched beside Kibum and pulled away one of his hands to whisper in his ear. "We're leaving. Gather your things."   
                Kibum sprung up and scurried to help Minho pack, and followed Minho when he grabbed Kibum by the wrist to drag him to the electrobike parked out back. Kibum wriggled his wrist out of Minho's tight grip and caught him by the fingers instead, ending up hand in hand. They jumped on the electrobike and Minho flipped switches and turn knobs, upping the voltage for maximum speed. The electrobike lifted off the ground, hovering a good half a meter.  
                "Wait!" Minseok came running out of the back exit, and passed Minho a box wrapped in cloth. "So you don't go hungry," he clarified, and Minho smiled. "Make sure Kibum takes his medication and stay safe!"  
                "Thank you, Minseok!" Minho said, and kicked the electrobike into gear, racing off into the dead forest, giving Kibum barely enough time to wave goodbye to his new friend.   
                "Your Highness!" Minho heard again, and picked up speed.  
                "Minho!" It was Tao's voice.  
                Minho cursed and threw a glance over his shoulder.  
                "Jero, are they looking for someone royal?" Kibum tightened his hold on Minho's torso. "Are they looking for Prince Minho?"   
                " _I am Prince Minho_."   
                Minho angrily twisted the accelerator and dodged a tree.   
                "I know you must think of me as a liar, but it was to protect you. If anyone at the royal compound found out I was with a North Korean, they'd kill you and exile me. And I'd rather risk my honor than see another person I care about die." Cold air whizzed past their red ears. "I won't go back until I can find somewhere safe for you."   
                Hot tears spilled over in Kibum's eyes and he buried his face between Minho's shoulder blades. "So how much of you is true?"  
                "All of it!"  
                Kibum choked on a sob. "All you were hiding is that you're the fucking Prince?"   
                A lump formed in Minho's throat and he tried to swallow it away. "I'm so sorry."   
                "Are you kidding me?" Kibum laughed. "Having you as my ally could reunite Korea." Kibum hugged Minho tight, his sobs strangling his laughs. "We could end the war. I was jailed because I’m the leader of the freedom fighters. If we combine forces…"  
                _We could end the war_ echoed in Minho's head. His mind went blank. The war could be ended. But how? How? How could they overthrow the North Korean government? The South Korean army had been having difficultly just keeping them back for the entire six years the war had taken up.   
                Minho stopped the electrobike.   
                "What do you mean, _end the war?_ " 



                x              x              x              x              x

                After Minseok watched the duo ride off safely, he hurried to open the door for the impatient search party. He pulled open the door and soldiers immediately filed in, led by a stoic Tao and stern-faced Jinki.  
                "Pardon us, brother." Tao said in a quiet, steely voice. "Do you happen to know the whereabouts of the Prince?"   
                "Prince Minho?" Minseok acted flustered, clasping his hands together nervously. "I was so surprised by his visit, but he left for a walk a few days ago and never returned. I don't know where he could be."   
                Tao stared Minseok down. "Minseok," he warned.  
                "Search the place," Jinki ordered, motioning with his hand.            
                The soldiers dispersed and Tao grabbed a fistful of Minseok's robe, jerking the elder close. "You're our friend, too, Minseok. Where is he?" He demanded.   
                Minseok narrowed his eyes and pried Tao's fingers from his robes. "Gone. Don't know where to." Minseok pulled his robes tighter around himself. "Don't try to find him. And what you're going to tell people back and the compound is that he was killed by a mountain tiger on his way to the temple."  
                Jinki stepped forward. "Why do we need to tell people that?"   
                "Security reasons. Now get out of my temple."   
                "He's not here," a soldier called, and Jinki kept his eyes squarely locked on Minseok.  
                "Let's move out." He spat.   
                Jinki led the twenty or so soldiers out, and Tao stayed behind, looking Minseok up and down. "I respect you, Minseok, but we'll find what you're hiding. You can count on it." He turned on his heel and marched out.            

                x              x              x              x              x

                Silence pressed on them from all sides, suppressing breathing and amplifying pounding hearts. Minho's breath rasped in his ears, and he cut the electrobike's engine. Kibum's heart thundered against the center of Minho's back, and Minho slowly hung his head.  
                "Kibum, I don't understand."   
               Minho couldn't see it. He couldn't understand how Korea could be reunited again after so many years of separation. What strategy did Kibum have that Minho hadn't tried yet?  
                "Don't understand what?" Minho pulled Kibum's arms off himself and got off the electrobike. Kibum's cheeks were rosy and a smile stained his lips.  
                "I've tried every strategy. I've done all I can. And I see no end to the war." Minho put his elbows on the electrobike and hid his face in his hands, his still bare back hunching.  
                Kibum leaned forward and tucked his face in the crook of Minho's shoulder. "I have something you don't—"   
                Minho shook his head. "It's not possible."   
                "—I have the trust of every North Korean citizen—"   
                "Trust doesn't mean shit!" Kibum drew away from Minho's shouting, surprised. Minho punched the electrobike and stomped away, leaning limply on a tree. "I trusted Yunseo wouldn't die. But she still did! I trusted her when she said that she would live and we would raise Iseul together. Trust means nothing, Kibum!"   
                Kibum climbed off the bike, shaken. "If you'd just listen to me for a minute!" His hands balled into fists. "I am backed by the entire North Korean population. Maybe trust doesn't mean anything to you, but it's everything for me." Kibum grabbed Minho by the arm and spun him around, shaking him by the shoulders. "We don't like the war, either! It's harder on us than it is on you. We're starving every day, dying every day. All the people we look to for protection are gone, fighting you, and our planet is awful. We don't have anywhere safe to be, Prince."         

                Minho gripped Kibum's skinny wrists, grappling with him to make him let go of his shoulders. "I don't know how to help," Minho spat, tearing Kibum's fingers away. He looked down, avoiding Kibum's eyes.  
                "Prince…" Kibum began.  
                "Please, just call me Minho." Minho couldn't stop himself from flicking his gaze upward and meeting Kibum's scared eyes. It was so easy to read into the terror in Kibum's eyes, the desperation.  
                "You're scared, too." Kibum whispered, intently studying Minho's face. "What are you scared of?"  
                "Failure." Minho closed his eyes and hung his head. "I have to win this war, and I'm so scared of failing."  
                Slowly, Kibum folded Minho in his arms, tucking Minho's head in the crook of his neck. Minho tried to pull away, but Kibum held fast. Kibum's arms were string and warm, and soon Minho relaxed into them, remembering what it was like to be held. He choked on a sob, realizing how long it'd been since someone had put their arms around him. Kibum rocked back and forth as Minho shook with sobs, crooning into his ear. "You must have the weight of a planet on your shoulders." "It's okay, we'll make it better." "Shh."   
                When Kibum finally released Minho, Minho's face was as tear-streaked as it was the first time they met. Kibum chuckled and reached to wipe away a tear. Sniffling, Minho intercepted Kibum's fingers and held onto them.   
                "I'm supposed to be taking care of _you_." He said with a faint half-smile.  
                "Everyone needs to feel love every once in a while." Kibum whispered, smiling sadly.   
                Minho sighed. Kibum was right. He needed to be loved again. Warmth swelled inside Minho's chest and for a moment or two, he forgot all his sadness, forgetting that he was mourning deaths in his family, forgetting his nightly horror dreams, forgetting the war. He closed his eyes and listened to Kibum's breathing, surrounded by dead rustling trees.  
                What Minho did next surprised the both of them.   
                In a burst of lustiness, Minho leaned in and grazed Kibum's lower lip with his teeth, evoking a shiver from Kibum. They exchanged breath for a short moment, an invisible barrier between their lips, before they both pulled away and took a step back.   
                Kibum cleared his throat and admitted: "I like you."   
                It didn't register in Minho's mind.   
                "Huh?" He stood dumbly for a while before it clicked, and he stared at Kibum, aghast. "I'm sorry, what?" Minho blinked. "What do you mean, you like me?"   
                "It's exactly that," Kibum sighed, scratching his head and messing up his black and red hair. "I don't know why I do, but I can't lie to myself and say I don't. Well, I mean, I guess you're really attractive, and strong, and smart, and kind, and—"   
                Minho put a finger over Kibum's full pink lips. "Shh," he shushed Kibum. "We'll talk about it later. We still need to find a place to be before sundown. Let's go."   
                They climbed back onto the electrobike, and Minho started it up again, taking off. Minho tried desperately to ignore the tickle of Kibum's breath across his shoulder blades and focus on flying the electrobike, but Kibum was too there, too real. The warmth inside him turned into a fire.


	10. Chapter Ten

                By the time they found a small abandoned hut, Minho had calmed his insides and Kibum no longer wanted to talk about liking anyone. Minho cut the electric engine and dismounted along with Kibum, putting down the kickstand and taking into his arms the box of food and his bag of clothes. Silently, they both drug their feet into the dilapidated hut, searching through its contents.   
                There was a low table for eating, a small, disintegrating wood-burning stove, a little household Buddhist shrine, and a single folded-up bedding set in the corner. Minho dropped his things on the table and knelt before the stove, working on starting a fire to warm the cold hut. Kibum, his face long, shut the door behind himself, and began busying himself with picking up sticks and tidying the floor. Minho added the sticks Kibum gathered to the small fire and lit the kindling with his flint stones, shutting the slatted door on the stove.   
                They sat at the table, facing each other.  
                Minho sighed and began first. "Since you're the leader of the freedom fighters, you must have had a strategy before you were arrested, right?"   
                Kibum nodded, his eyes taking in everything in the hut. "Before I was arrested, I was building a militia. And long before I was leader, we begun sending missionaries to find people here on Exo who could back us and give us information on the South Korean army. But we've had not a single one return alive."  
                "We killed them all as government spies," Minho frowned.   
                Kibum grimaced. "My plan as I was escaping prison was to find someone like you and get information from them about Exo's strategy, and offer the service of the some ten thousand men and women I have gathered."   
                Minho's ears perked at "and women". He leaned forward. " _And women?_ "  
                "Yes," Kibum affirmed, confused.  
                A laugh escaped Minho's lips and he held his head in his hands. "This planet is so stupid. Kibum, are you aware that out female to male ratio for this year is one to fifty? For every fifty men, there is only one woman. North Korea's whole poisoned water stunt before we fled killed off almost all our women."   
                "You're kidding."   
                Minho shook his head.   
                Kibum sneered. "I hate our government."  
                "So what's our plan?" Minho propped his elbows on the table.   
                Kibum mirrored Minho and folded his hands under his chin. "Gather the citizens, buck both the systems and install a new democracy."   
                "Essentially stage a giant rebellion?"  
                "Exactly." Kibum broke into a sick grin, his dark eyes glimmering under his black hair.   
                Minho chuckled. "It sounds dangerous, but I've run out of ideas and I like adrenaline." They stared each other down for a moment before Minho averted his eyes again. "I assume we'll discuss more details later." He stoked the fire in the stove and pulled the box of food closer, unknotting the cloth wrapped around it. Kibum leaned forward to peek inside as Minho removed the lid. Inside was a bag of rice and a hunk of bread, two bowls, two pairs of chopsticks, a bag of nuts and an assortment of dried meats and fishes. There was a small bundle tied with a string, a note with Kibum's name folded and tucked under the twine. "This must be your medication," Minho said as he handed the package to Kibum. Kibum dropped the parcel in his lap and unfolded the note. "Can I see?" Minho asked, holding out his hand for the slip of paper.  
                Kibum held the note to his chest. "No, it's okay. Just instructions. I can handle it myself."   
                Minho gave a concerned look, but turned and got up to find a pot to cook rice in.  
                Kibum read the note penned by Minseok in his elegant but messy writing. There were indeed instructions, but he skipped those over to read the post-script.   
                _P.S. Kibum-ah, you have probably learned by now that Jero is not Jero, but Prince Minho. I ask that you keep him close and love him freely. He needs someone, especially someone like you. Keep him in check, okay? You have my blessing and I wish you two the best of luck in uniting Korea._  
                Quickly, Kibum tore off that part of the note, tucking it safely away in his pocket. His heart thundered in his chest. How did Minseok know? The damn observant monk. He took a deep breath and reread his instructions, laying out the packets of medicine on the table.   
                "What drugs has Minseok prescribed you?" Minho  asked laughingly, putting a few small handfuls of rice into an old iron pot he'd found. He added water from his flask and set it on the stove to boil.   
                "I honestly have no idea," Kibum said, looking at the messily labeled packets of medication. "I just take what he tells me to take when he tells me to take it."  
                "So what do you need to take first?"   
                Kibum hesitantly pointed at a packet, then checked with his instructions. "This," he said. "And this," he added, pointing to another pouch.   
                Minho handed Kibum the water flask as Kibum put in his mouth two of the first pill, a small oblong white tablet, and one of the second pill, a larger, red-coated capsule.   
                "Do you know what they're for?" Minho sat back as Kibum washed down the pills.   
                "Nope, but they make the pain go away."   
                Minho picked up one of the pouches and read the label aloud. "Vicodin…?" He frowned. "Kibum, these are addicting. You might want to cut back on this one."   
                "Really?" Kibum snatched the pills out of Minho's hands. He looked closely at the package, hoping it would tell him something more. He picked up his instructions again and looked at them from all angles, hoping that Minseok had written something about Vicodin being addictive.   
                He spotted something else instead.   
                "Oh, Minho, he wrote that I have to change the gauze on my side." Kibum rummaged in his parcel again and came up with a few pieces of gauze.     
                "Do you need me to help?" Minho asked.   
                "Yeah, I can't reach my side that well, especially with my wrist all bandaged up."  
                Minho came and sat beside Kibum, helping him untie and strip off his mid-thigh length Japanese style tunic. He flashed on his first night with Yunseo, but immediately extinguished the memory. Kibum's skin was lily white and chilly, slight goose bumps raised on his forearms. Minho quietly went about peeling the old gauze off Kibum's side, slashing emotions as they bubbled up.  
                "Minho…" Kibum sighed after a moment. "About liking you…"  
                "You don't have to talk about it," Minho cut in.  
                "No, I want to talk about it." Kibum insisted as Minho inspected his stitches. "You probably think it's really weird."  
                "Not necessarily," Minho pressed the new gauze to Kibum's side. "It's weird because we've only just met, but I have friends who are gay. I don't think there's anything wrong with it."  
                He could tell Kibum was both incredibly comfortable and terribly on edge with Minho that close to him. "But what about you? You had a wife. You have a child."   
                Minho's eyes burned. He shoved away the bitter past and wrapped a hand around Kibum's wrist, occupying himself with looking at Kibum's flawless blue veins. On a whim and raising Kibum's hand to his face, Minho trailed his lips over Kibum's open palm, kissing the perfectly formed lines. Kibum inhaled audibly. Minho exhaled hot breath up Kibum's wrist, and kissed his way up to Kibum's elbow. He used his grip on Kibum's wrist to pull Kibum closer and away from the table, climbing halfway into his lap. Dropping his wrist, Minho held Kibum's face in both hands. "Distract me from them," he said, his voice raw. Minho stared with smoldering lust at Kibum's lower lip as it quivered and Kibum gasped for breath. Tracing the contours of Kibum's lips with a thumb, Minho leaned in and kissed him, biting gently at his lower lip. Minho knotted one hand in the hair on the back of Kibum's head, the with the other, placed Kibum's palm on his chest and guided him low. "I'm tired of thinking about everyone and everything."  
                Kibum groaned into Minho's mouth, sinking his teeth into Minho's lower lip. "Minho, he moaned as his hand was led to feel Minho's hips. Minho left Kibum's hand there, and moved to grip Kibum by the shoulders.   
                Kibum wriggled the fingers of both hands into Minho's waistband and touched the sensitive swells of Minho's hips, evoking from him gasps and shivers. _Oh fuck_ , Minho thought, closing his eyes. _He's such a tease_. Kibum's fingers lingered back up Minho's torso, hovering gingerly above his scalding skin. Kibum pulled away from their kiss and grinned sadly.  
                "Don't forget the rice," he whispered, kissing Minho sloppily on the corner of his mouth, heart pounding in his throat.  
                Minho cursed and pulled his hands away, hurriedly searching for something to use as a hot pad. He quickly gave up his search and pulled the rice off the stove with his bare hands. He cursed again and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Laughing lightly, Kibum fetched the rice bowls out of the food box and handed them one by one to Minho, who scooped rice into them with his bare hands.  
                Grumbling, Minho flopped down on the floor, snatching a pair of chopsticks and delicately holding them for the burns on his fingers. Kibum got his own bowl of rice and pair of chopsticks, and quietly helped himself into Minho's lap, settling down between his legs and leaning heavily against him. Minho's back stiffened slightly.   
                "Ah," Kibum said, holding up a bite of rice to Minho's face and leaning to the side. Minho stared at it, confused. "Open your mouth." Minho did as instructed, and Kibum popped the bite in his mouth. "It's my turn to take care of you. Now that you've hurt your fingers." Kibum ate a bite of rice himself.   
                 "You don't have to—" Minho began to protest, but was silenced by another mouthful of rice.   
                "You know," Kibum began, thoughtfully chewing his rice. "I had a lover, once. He was in the army, just like you. He was amazing—a gifted musician, handsome. Not tall, but smart and funny. But he left me for a woman and a promotion. And then he sent me to jail." Kibum exhaled. "The two-faced fucker."   
                "Why are you telling me this?" Minho asked, receiving another bite of rice.   
                "Because I know your past but you don't know mine."   
                Minho chewed and looked down. His eyes looked passively at the side of Kibum's neck, but he spied something more. A row of numbers. He swallowed. "Kibum, what are these numbers?"  
                "Oh, those?" Minho ran a finger over the '19329' tattooed on Kibum's neck. "It's just my inmate number."   
                "Do they mean anything? Is this how many people are jailed?"   
                Kibum shook his head. "No." He gulped. "Minho, I… I was on death row. They were going to execute me." He said slowly.   
                Minho's mouth dried up and his eyes burned. "So this is…"  
                "How many have been killed."   
                A screaming silence.   
                Rage boiled in Minho's vein, and he pushed Kibum away, setting down his bowl of untouched rice. Kibum fell by the wayside against the low table, dropping his chopsticks and hissing at the pain in his side as the table's edge dug into his bruises. Minho stood up and stepped over Kibum, stomping out the door. In the time Minho and Kibum had spent in the little hut, a heavy snow had begun to fall, and Minho could barely see in front of himself. His breath fogged and he shivered, a hoarse scream escaping his lips.   
                Pacing back and forth in the clearing, wearing tracks in the snow with his leather boots, he looked to the white sky. "How do I end it?" He cried, his voice ragged. He pulled desperately at his hair and looked back at the ground. "Why is this even happening?" His voice cracked.        
                "Minho!" Kibum called, rushing from the hut. He grabbed Minho by the arm and spun him around, taking his face in his hands. "Minho, look at me."   
                "I feel so responsible!" Minho howled.  
                "There's nothing we can do, Minho! All those people are already dead."   
                "I could've done something years ago had I known your people were being killed en masse! It's my fault for not seeing it."   
                "Let it go! We need to focus on saving the people who are next in line. It's not too late, okay? You can still end it." Kibum hugged Minho tight, his muscular frame shaking like a leaf. The cold snow piled quickly around them, turning their cheeks chapped red and warm. "Let's go back inside," Kibum urged, shivering. "We'll freeze to death if we're out here any longer, and you need to get your head on straight."   
                He turned Minho in the direction of the hut and led him staggeringly back inside, Minho leaning heavily on Kibum's shoulder, Kibum's knees buckling under the weight. Unceremoniously, Kibum threw off Minho and he dropped to the floor of the hut, Kibum flopping down beside him, his chest made tight from the cold. He helped Minho to sit up, and wiped away a wayward tear.   
                "What's your deal with the past?" Kibum asked, drawing his knees up against his chest.   
                Minho took a deep breath. "Kibum, I'm not cut out for war." He swallowed. "I hate fighting. I always have. And in the past five years so many have been killed. So many of my friends, my subordinates, my enemies, my family… almost all of them have died. Do you know why I'm here, Kibum?" Kibum shook his head. "I had to escape my coronation. Becoming King would have caused me to lose every ounce of sanity I have left. It sounds ridiculous, but… Put yourself in my shoes."   
                "A young widower with a sick daughter and full responsibility for an entire planet." Kibum whispered.   
                Minho nodded his head, curling up into a ball. "And the nightmares… Reliving every single murder I've committed, every night." Minho lifted his head. "Do you know how many people I've killed with these hands?" He held his hands out in front of his himself, staring at his rough palms. "Hundreds."   
                Kibum took Minho's hands, pressing them together. He looked Minho in the eye. "Then _stop_."   
                Minho opened his mouth to protest, but Kibum shushed him with a hand.   
                "Don't." Kibum slowly took his hand away. "Forget the past for right now." Kibum took Minho's face in his hands.   
                "Kibum," Minho whispered, reading into the raw lust behind Kibum's milky brown irises. Tenderly, Kibum leaned forward, his eyes flicking from Minho's eyes to his lips and back again. Their lips met with soft impact, and Minho tried so hard not to inhale too sharply. With the light press of Kibum's mouth, Minho was again plunged into the white-hot gold of desire, pushing hungrily forward into Kibum's embrace, slipping his tongue between wet lips to explore. All Minho could think about was Kibum. Wanting Kibum, kissing Kibum. Stripping Kibum down and feeling every inch of him.  
                Minho pulled back for air, staring Kibum in the eye, Kibum's hands still gripping Minho's face. Kibum let go of Minho's face and wrapped his skinny arms around Minho's neck, his bandaged right arm resting heavily on a gnarled white scar on Minho's left shoulder. "Have you ever kissed another man?"   
                "No," Minho susurrated into Kibum's lips, kissing him again. "But I need you right now."   
                Kibum exhaled weighty happiness, his eyes heavy-lidded supernovas under his dark hair, his cheeks flushed warm and rosy. Burying his face in the crook of Minho's neck and biting his lip, he let Minho shimmy fingers into his waistband. _Shit_ , Kibum thought, his fingers curling against Minho's back as Minho gently pushed Kibum to the floor. Kibum's entire body was wracked with tension, with want, and he vocalized a tiny groan as Minho worked his hands up Kibum's bare chest. "Minho," Kibum gasped, shuddering at Minho's touch. "Promise me we'll stay together."               
                "I promise," Minho whispered, their eyes locked. Kibum gave a quivering smile, reaching to brush his lips against Minho's neck, his hair sticking in sweaty clumps to his forehead. Another passionate kiss. "Just… promise me you'll help me end this war."


	11. Chapter Eleven

                That night they kept each other warm, each bundled in a tunic then wrapped together with a blanket. Minho felt so comfortable in Kibum's arms, a feeling he hadn't felt for six years. As his eyes fluttered open the next morning, he buried his face in Kibum's dark hair, breathing in his musty scent. He reveled in the silence of the hut, feeling the tickle of Kibum's breath on his chin, and sighed happily.  
                _Bam bam bam!_  
                Minho shot right up, now awake, eyes wide. Kibum gasped as he rolled off Minho's chest, violently pulled from sleep. Minho held his breath for a moment.  
                "Minho!" Jinki's voice, uncomfortably close. The door of the hut was pounded on again. "Minho, you can either come out peacefully, or we break down the door."  
                Minho rose to his feet, the blanket falling to the floor. His heart pounded and he helped Kibum to stand. Kibum latched onto Minho's arm, his breathing shallow.  
                They didn't even get the chance to respond before the door was kicked in and soldiers filed inside, fronted by an enraged Jinki, whose eyes widened at the sight of Minho. "Minho, what the hell?" He shouted, grabbing Minho by the shirtfront. Kibum clutched Minho's arm tighter. "What makes you think you can just skip out on your coronation and leave Iseul behind?" Jinki let go of Minho's collar and took a step back as Tao silently appeared behind his shoulder. Both men wore fur cowls and fur-lined boots, hands stuffed into thick fingerless gloves. Their faces were rosy, and a gust of wind blew in snow from the outside, the hut's door hanging broken on its hinges.  
                "I needed some time to think, okay?" Minho shot back, and Jinki's eyes flickered to Kibum.  
                Tao asked the question on Jinki's mind. "Who's that?"  
                 All eyes were fixated on Kibum.  
                "Why's he wearing North Korean clothes?" Jinki pressed, eyes cynical.  
                Minho glanced around frantically as Kibum's fingers dug into his elbow. "That's because he uh… found them. He has no connection to North Korea."  
                Kibum nodded vigorously.  
                "I don't like his face," Tao whispered to Jinki, and Jinki bobbed his head in agreement.  
                "Arrest him," Jinki said loudly, and two men came forward from the group of soldiers to pry Kibum off Minho.  
                "No!" Kibum cried, resisting as they pulled him away and twisted his arms behind his back. He thrashed and Minho stood dumbfounded for a moment before reacting.  
                "Jinki, he hasn't done anything!" Minho reached for Kibum as he was drug from the room.  
                "You know what kind of position we're in better than anyone, Minho. We can't risk anything." Jinki hissed.  
                Minho let out a sharp breath, pressing his lips into a firm line. Defeated. "He's badly injured, okay? Be gentle."  
                Jinki narrowed his eyes. "Gather your things and let's go. The compound is waiting for you."  
                With vehemence radiating between the two of them, Minho knelt and shoved his things back into his rucksack, laying Kibum's medicine on top of his clothes before cinching it shut and rolling up the found blanket. Minho stood and glared around, and Jinki stepped aside, motioning at the door, which Tao had moved to stand beside like a statue.  
                "Minseok said you were killed," Tao whispered as Minho passed by.  
                Minho stopped, tipping his chin only slightly in Tao's direction. "Did he, now?"  
                Tao sneered and Minho carried on, stepping out into the snowy wood, a blast of cold wind hitting him square in the face. He shivered, clutching the blanket to his chest.

                x              x              x              x              x

                In heavily falling snow Jinki marched Minho back to Minseok's temple, where two army jeeps were parked, snow piling on their tops. Minho watched bitterly as Kibum was roughly shoved into the covered back of one of them, and frowned as Jinki prodded him into the back of the other. Jinki plopped down on the bench beside Minho once inside the jeep, and Tao sat across from them, crossing his legs prissily and folding his arms. Minho sighed and slouched lower on the bench. He stole a glance out the open back of the jeep as they began to drive away, and saw from the corner of his eye that Minseok was standing and watching from the open door of the temple.  
                "Iseul wanted to know why you left." Jinki said sourly, staring into the middle distance.  
                Minho squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."  
                "I didn't know what to tell her, Minho. I know I'm her godfather, and I'll always take care of her if you need me to, but you can't just leave without notice. You're her only family." Jinki leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.  
                Minho winced. "I'm sorry," he repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm being an awful father."  
                Jinki scoffed. "Yeah."  
                Minho deflated, staring blankly at the ceiling of the jeep.  
                "Who's the North Korean you were with?" Tao asked after a long silence.  
                Minho straightened up. "His name is Kibum. He's going to help me end the war."  
                Tao laughed, then narrowed his catty eyes. "How? What's he got that we don't have?"  
                Minho opened his mouth, but Jinki talked over the top of him. "I don't think we're in any position to be trusting any North Koreans, Minho, no matter who they tell us they are." He sat up again, leaning against the back of the long bench. "I don't care who that man is. We can't trust what he says. "  
                "He's the leader of the freedom fighters." Minho said before Jinki could cut him off again.  
                Jinki pressed his lips in a firm line. "Even more the reason to arrest him." He exhaled angrily through his nose. "So why exactly did you just up and leave?"  
                "I needed more time to think before becoming King." Minho said plainly.              
                Jinki pulled off his fur cowl. "Okay," he nodded. "Understandable. But still kind of a dickhead move."  
                "I know." Minho sighed.  
                "Your coronation was moved to next week to give Tao and I time to find you." Jinki informed Minho, placing his cowl in his lap and fidgeting with the fur.  
                Minho looked down. "So I'm still set to be King."  
                "It's not like there's anyone else who can be King," Tao said quietly.  
                "Touché." Minho smirked.  
                After a short while longer, they arrived back at the royal compound, driving right up to the side entrance on the north. The soldiers filed neatly out of the cars and into the arched entry way, and Minho glared after as the same two jerked Kibum along by the elbows into the royal compound, shiny handcuffs keeping his arms behind his back. Minho, Jinki and Tao brought up the rear of the entourage, Jinki and Tao flanking Minho on either side, faces stern. They were immediately greeted by servants and palace guards, and Minho passed off the ratty blanket to one of them, but refused to let go of his pack. They inquired about the new prisoner as Minho pushed his way to the main courtyard. They wanted to know about Kibum.  
                Minho narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat. "I would like to see for myself that the North Korean is properly taken care of." He said boomingly as Tao, Jinki, and the servants trailed behind him into the courtyard as they followed closely the two soldiers who were dragging Kibum to the prison cells. "Any sort of knowledge he might have would prove helpful."  
                They followed the soldiers and Kibum all the way down to the prison cells, one level above the interrogation cells, and Minho watched angrily as Kibum was uncuffed and thrown carelessly in a chamber. The barred door was slid shut with a rumbling sound, and keys jangled as a soldier locked him up tight. Minho stepped up to the cell door and folded his hands behind his back as Kibum gripped the bars tightly.  
                "I want to monitor him myself," Minho said frankly, looking Kibum in the dark eyes. "I'll keep tabs on him for a little while, and then we'll move him to the interrogation cells if need be."  
                "What the fuck?" Kibum hissed, his knuckles turning white. "Minho, what the hell is going on?"  
                " _Just play along_ ," Minho mouthed, keeping his eyes fixed on Kibum. He feigned a scoff. "Who do you think you are to refer to me on a first-name basis?" Kibum gulped and Minho could feel beads of sweat form on his forehead. He didn't break their eye contact for what seemed like another minute. "You may be the leader of the freedom fighters, but that gives you no right to refer to me so informally." Minho turned on his heel and fought hard the urge to glance over his shoulder back at Kibum. He cleared his throat. "Jinki," he said. "There's stuff I need to go over, correct? For the coronation."  
                Jinki snapped out of glaring at Kibum and followed as Minho began to ascend the stairs back up to the courtyard. "Yes. You should review the order of ceremony, and then there are consultations with the court advisors." Over the years Minho had kept his group of five together, Jinki had ended up being Minho's right hand man and a manager of sorts, keeping track of important dates and meetings and running some things when Minho was swamped with Princely duties and war planning.  
                Minho nodded, unclasping his hands from behind his back and folding his arms.  
                "Hey," Jinki said, pulling Minho out of a blank state. "Who exactly is that North Korean guy to you? He kept looking at you funny."  
                "Oh," Minho said, casting his eyes at the ground. "He's nobody to me. He must have taken my concern for his injuries the wrong way."  
                Jinki looked at Minho in disbelief.

                x              x              x              x              x

                Minho's head felt heavier.  
                Despite the fact that knew he didn't have to wear his new headpiece all the time, Minho's head now felt as though there had been a weight placed on it. He often caught himself hanging his head in the days leading up to his coronation ceremony.  
                 As soon as his coronation was over and court advisors and military officers were done congratulating him, Minho marched to his bedroom and pulled off the cumbersome shining headgear that'd been just placed on his head, and slipped on more comfortable slippers, not bothering to shrug off any of the thick layers of silk that he'd been wrapped in for the ceremony. He wanted to go check in on his "prisoner".   
                "Kibum," Minho said quietly as he slid to a stop in front of Kibum's cell.  
                Kibum was huddled in the far corner, in the shadows. He looked so pitiful. Hearing Minho's voice, he lifted his head and rose to his feet, rushing to grip the cell bars. "Minho!" He exclaimed, eyes bright.  
                Minho put his fingers over Kibum's hands. "I'm sorry I haven't been down to check on you, I got really busy. The prison guards haven't been mistreating you, have they?"  
                Kibum shook his head, his black hair falling in his eyes. Minho reached between the bars to brush it out of his eyes. "They seem really suspicious of me," Kibum said, extending his arms to fix the collar of Minho's elaborate robe.  
                Minho sighed and rested his head on the cold metal bars, allowing his eyes to slide shut. "I'll get you out of here soon, okay?" Minho murmured.  
                Kibum left his hands on Minho's shirtfront. "Don't worry about me right now. Get everything sorted that you need to get sorted now that you're…" Kibum gulped. "King." He fussed with Minho's collar again. "I'll be fine."  
                "I need you to help me with starting this whole giant rebellion… thing." Minho took Kibum's hands in his own before forcing Kibum back into the cell. He didn't want any guards to walk by and catch him off guard. "Who do I need to go to?"  
                "There are two Lieutenants in the North Korean army who are agents for the freedom fighters. Chances are you'll come across them soon if you haven't already, and if you're able, tell them I'm working with you to end the war." Kibum returned to gripping the cell bars and Minho lifted his head again.  
                "I've already met and fought with the North Korean Lieutenants multiple times over the past five years." Minho said, folding his arms. "What are their names?"  
                "Chanyeol and Sehun."  
                The faces popped into Minho's mind. Tall, gangly, scary Chanyeol, and quiet but forceful Sehun? Minho had had no idea. His mouth hung open slightly. "Really?"  
                Kibum nodded. "Could you not tell?"  
                "Not at all. Those two're actually slightly terrifying when they fight."  
                Kibum smirked, and brushed hair out of his eyes. "Good. That means they're doing their job well." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, let me know if you talk to them anytime soon."  
                Minho bobbed his head, but his ears perked up as he heard something at the top of the stairs. "Kibum, I should go." He whispered, turning dark brown eyes on Kibum. Kibum blinked and licked his lips, and Minho leaned forward, pressing his face to the bars. The kiss was quick and chaste, steel bars pushing against their cheekbones. Kibum nibbled lightly on Minho's bottom lip and he sucked in a sharp breath before drifting back and kissing Kibum on the nose. He smiled tightly and ghosted away in a rustle of silk as Kibum slithered back into the far corner of his cell, hunching over in a ball to hide the stupid grin on his face.


	12. Chapter Twelve

                Major Lee Taemin stood with his head hung just inside the door of Jonghyun's tent, hands clasped behind his back, his face burning, having just run inside. His chest still heaved with breathlessness and his legs felt weak and shaky from running laps around the camp out of self-punishment. After many years he'd decided that it might be a good time to tell General Jonghyun that he knew what the inside of the royal compound was like, and that he'd been interrogated when he was held captive. The group of officers seated around the large table in the center of the tent stared at him with utmost scrutiny, and Jonghyun slammed a fist on the table. Jongin jumped in his seat on Jonghyun's right, looking up at the General momentarily before returning his eyes to Taemin.  
                "Do you have _any_ idea what that could have cost you?" Jonghyun barked, rising from his chair. "I have half a mind to strip you of your rank for your stupidity! How long were you planning on waiting to tell me this shit? It's been five fucking years!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Taemin, the veins on his neck bulging. "What did you tell them?"  
                "Nothing, sir!" Taemin replied, his long hair shrouding his eyes.  
                "Look me in the eye and tell me the truth!" Jonghyun slammed his hands on the table. "Did you or did you not give them any information about our army while you were captured?"  
               Taemin dropped to his knees and looked Jonghyun dead in the eye. "I didn't tell them a single thing about the army, General, I swear." Taemin bowed deeply before looking up again. "I know where their palace is. I can take us there for a raid, and I know what kind of security they had stationed. Please, Jonghyun, give me a chance to redeem myself."  
                Jonghyun huffed and sat down again, folding his arms across his chest. "How long did it take you to get back to camp?" Jonghyun stuck his tongue in his cheek, his eyes flicking up and down over Taemin.  
                "It's a three day trip on foot, or maybe two on horseback." Taemin rubbed his hands on his knees, his legs still quaking from the extreme physical exertion of hard running. Sweat dripped down his temple and stuck his hair to his face and his hyperventilation seemed almost sonic in the silence of the General's tent. "General, it will be worth it to seize their palace now, I just know it. Trust me on this one. Please." Taemin crept towards the edge of the wooden table and gripped it with white fingers. "They've a strong guard, but they're against violence. They refused to beat me while I was imprisoned five years ago and it would be so easy to dash their persistence with one tiny massacre that's too close to home. The Prince-- no, the King now, he was coronated a few days ago-- and all his officers, and his little elite group you fought all board at the royal compound. All we need to do is march in and spill some blood and we'll have them practically wrapped around our fingers. They're weak on the inside, General Jonghyun, and we could use that against them."  
                Jonghyun propped his elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand, narrowing his eyes and analyzing Major Taemin. "Captain Jongin," he said, his eyes fixed on Taemin. "Please take the Major and the Lieutenants to the armory tent to expand on that idea, and don't bother me until the plan is impeccable."  
                Captain Jongin nodded on Jonghyun's right and stood, the five Lieutenants following suit. Kyungsoo clapped Taemin on the shoulder and Taemin rose to his feet, inclining his head towards Jonghyun. "Thank you, sir." He said as the other Lieutenants ushered him out of the tent.  
                Jonghyun only stared as they left.

                x             x              x              x              x

                As the tent flap drifted shut, Jongin slung an arm around Taemin's shoulders, smiling brightly. "I still can't believe they got you, man! Even after all these years." He laughed. "What'd they do, sneak up on you?" Jongin snorted.  
                Taemin shrugged Jongin's arm off. "Yeah. They did." Taemin sighed as he pushed open the doorflap to the armory tent and shuffled inside, the other six filing in after. Kyungsoo sidled up to Jongin and gave him the evil eye before pushing him to sit on a crate. They all took seats on boxes and crates, and Taemin borrowed a sword's scabbard to draw in the dirt with. "Their royal compound is shaped like this," Taemin said, drawing a rectangle in the dirt. "It's simple, but there are many levels both above ground and underground. There were archers stationed at all four corners of the palace, as well as every 50 to 60 meters along the top of the outer wall. The two lookout towers at the front of the palace were also manned with archers." Taemin added to his diagram as he spoke, etching in the dirt with the point of the scabbard. "That seems to be all they had in terms of lookouts, but I've no doubt there's troops on standby, or small attack groups waiting for any kind of assail on the compound." Taemin put the scabbard in his lap and looked at Jongin and the Lieutenants. "It's possible that at this point the security has changed drastically, but I think it's safe to assume it will be essentially the same." He drug the back of his hand across his forehead.  
                "What sort of siege method are we using?" Joonmyun asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Waiting for them to surrender or starve would take too long, in my opinion."  
                "Should we just go all-out offensive and seize the palace?" Chanyeol chimed in from the crate he was sharing with Baekhyun. "What're we going to do once we're inside?"  
                "Kill the King." Taemin answered simply. He looked up, then down, and began to scratch at the dirt with the scabbard again. "Our goal is to destroy their infrastructure so we can easily install our own and begin a full-force takeover of this planet."  
                The group nodded, their focus on the drawing in the dirt.  
                "So yes," Taemin continued, sighing. "We're going to straight-up seize the palace. There's a new batch of soldiers being flown in in an hour or two, and with those men added to all the soldiers we already have, we should have enough troops to stage a successful siege."  
                "That's right," Sehun said quietly. "The Module is making a round tonight. How many men are coming?"  
                "Approximately two to three hundred." Jongin replied, leaning back cockily.  
                "For a combined total of about five hundred." Taemin continued. He sighed and wiped away more sweat. "Someone needs to get it in the South Korean side's ear that there's going to be a siege, and that will cause them to focus on guarding all sides of the compound, and in turn, we'll focus only on attacking the front. By the time they realize we're not coming from any other direction, we'll be inside and the mission could already be over."  
                "I'm going into some of the smaller towns undercover this coming week, I'll make sure to plant some rumors." Baekhyun said, and Taemin nodded.  
                "That's really clever," Chanyeol commented. "I would've planned a classic surprise attack on the backside of the palace."  
                "We're smarter than them." Taemin said plainly, standing up from the crate and tossing the scabbard aside. He stepped on his drawing of the South Korean royal compound, leaving a vengeful footprint as he left, the tent's doorflap fluttering shut behind him.  
                The other six stared after, faces hard. A sigh. "He's got something dirty planned, I can feel it." Jongin hissed, putting his hands on his knees and standing up. "I'm going to find out what it is."  
                Kyungsoo grabbed him by the sleeve before he could leave the tent, and forced him to sit down again. "Just let the guy do what he pleases." He said in a low voice. "We all know Major Taemin's got some mad smarts going for him, so whatever he ends up doing is going to be logical. Just like his waiting five years to tell us about what he learned about the South Korean palace has its benefits." Kyungsoo patted Jongin's knee. "Wait it out, Jongin."  
                Jongin groaned and shut his eyes, hiding his face in his hand. Kyungsoo pulled a tin of cigarettes and a book of matches from his pocket and offered cigarettes around, opening the tin for Baekhyun and Joonmyun and placing a cigarette on his own lip. He struck a match and lit up, tossing the book to Baekhyun afterward. Chanyeol grimaced and leaned away from Baekhyun as the smoke pouring from his mouth wafted towards him. Jongin huffed, and Kyungsoo reached over to grab his hand and lace their fingers together.  
                "Soon, guys." Sehun said after a long pause. "Soon the planet'll be ours."  
                Joonmyun chuckled and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "I can't wait. My girl back home will be so excited to see this place once we've got it captured."  
                "Man, you're always talking about that girl of yours." Jongin said, kicking a foot in Joonmyun's direction as Joonmyun put his cigarette to his lips again. "When's the last time you saw her, huh?"  
                Joonmyun blushed as he blew smoke out his nose. "I still get letters from her, you know." He rubbed a hand over his face. "You guys can have your whole man-on-man thing, but I'll stick to being straight, okay?"  
                The other five laughed, but Sehun patted Joonmyun on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm still straight, too." He said with an eyesmile.  
                 As cigarettes began to go out, a young soldier poked his head inside the tent, informing the Lieutenants and the Captain that the Module was coming in for landing with the new batch of soldiers. Joonmyun and Baekhyun stomped out their cigarettes and followed Sehun out with Chanyeol in tow, tailing after the soldier boy. Kyungsoo and Jongin lagged behind, Kyungsoo carefully stubbing out his cigarette in the dirt, fingers still laced with Jongin's.  
                "Taemin's still your direct senior, you should respect his plans, Jongin. The last thing we need is a fight between the officers right now ." Kyungsoo whispered, leaning in and planting a grazing kiss on the corner of Jongin's mouth.  
                Jongin squeezed Kyungsoo's hand with a tight smile before letting go and standing up to follow the other men to where a large black space vessel was touching down in an empty field. Their hair whipped around in the wind as the lightless Module extended a gangplank and soldiers began filing out of the ship.

                x             x              x              x              x

                Minho sat like a statue in his study, eyes fixed on the wall, forehead crinkled. There were two freedom fighter agents posing as North Korean Lieutenants. Minho had to agree that it was a smart move, placing spies in the enemy's midst, and he wondered how long they'd been stationed. He wondered how much trust they had from the General, and if they'd ever been caught or if anyone suspected them. He rubbed his chin. Sehun and Chanyeol. Two of the dirtiest fighters in the group of five North Korean Lieutenants. He sighed and rose from his chair, brushing his hands off on his trousers and adjusting his tunic before guessing the time and exiting his study, strolling down the corridor. Two guards flanked him on either side, and he rolled his eyes at the extra security. It was one of the many downsides to becoming King.  
                The guards silently escorted him to his destination, and stopped at the door as Minho entered the room.  
                "Papa!" A bright voice cried.  
                Beaming, Minho crouched and held out his arms to receive the small frame flung at his own. "Iseul," Minho chuckled, hugging his daughter tight. He scooped her up and spun her around before taking her hand and leading her back to her bed. They sat on the edge of the bed together. "Are you doing well?" Minho asked, holding her little hands in his own.  
                Iseul nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly with jagged baby teeth. Minho pulled his legs up onto the small bed and sat criss-cross, pulling his daughter into his lap and allowing her to play with his long fingers. "Papa, have you been very busy?" Iseul asked, pressing the palms of Minho's hands together.   
                "I guess I have been," Minho said, burying his nose in Iseul's feather-soft hair.  
                "You're King now, huh." Iseul craned her neck to look her father in the eye. "Will you still come visit with me?"  
                Minho paled at the thought of Iseul thinking he wouldn't visit after becoming King. "Of course I'll visit. You're my daughter, I couldn't imagine not being with you." Minho hugged Iseul tight to his chest. "My baby angel." He whispered into a giggling Iseul's ear. Iseul squealed and squirmed, beaming.  
                "Papa, can we pick out a book from the library?" Iseul wriggled out of her father's arms and hopped up and down on her bed, her small fists clutching the sides of her white nightgown.  
                "Only if you wear warm clothes," Minho said with faux sternness, pretending to give Iseul a dirty look before cracking into a smile.  
                Iseul nodded vigorously, curled into a crouch, eyes bright. Minho ruffled her feathery-soft hair and helped her jump down from the bed, holding up a hand when Iseul's attendants swooped in to take over. "Is it okay if Papa helps you pick out an outfit?" Minho offered, pulling open the curtain to Iseul's rich closet. Iseul only laughed, pulling her hand out of Minho's and pulling a dress off the rack.  
                "Is this one pretty?" Iseul held the dress up to her frame.  
                "It's very beautiful," Minho said, exaggerating a swoon. "But it's a summer dress!" Iseul pouted and put the dress back. Minho pulled a hanbok out and held it up to his own frame. "Does this look good on me?" He joked, feigning uncertainty.  
                "Papa, that's for a girl!" Iseul exclaimed, pulling the garment from her father's hands. Minho chuckled.  
                "What color do you like to wear?" Minho asked, pawing through the full clothes rack. "Blue? Yellow?"  
                Iseul copied her father's actions. "I like to wear white. The color of snow." She looked at Minho with big eyes.  
                Minho smirked. "White it is," he said, pulling a white overcoat off the rack.  
                Once Iseul was dressed and warm, they set off for the library, hand-in-hand, father smiling at daughter. At the grand doors to the royal library, Minho scooped Iseul up and put her on his shoulders, allowing her to look at the books on the upper shelves. Squealing happily, she picked a compilation of Grimm's fairy tales.  
                As they left the grand library, Iseul still atop Minho's shoulders, and Minho still smiling brightly, a court advisor rushed down the hall towards them, his face harried. He stopped when he reached Minho, and Minho lifted Iseul off his shoulders, setting her on the ground and taking her hand. "King Minho, we've some bad news." The advisor said breathlessly. "The North Koreans are planning a siege on the royal compound."  
                Minho's jaw fell slack. "I'm sorry, what?"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

                Minho quickly bid goodbye to a disappointed Iseul, his gut wrenching at her saddened face as he left her in the hands of her caretakers and ghosted out the door. He met again with the advisor, and asked for him to repeat the news.   
                "Do you know how long we have?" Minho pressed, gripping the advisor's shoulder tightly. The older man shook his head.   
                "I'd estimate about a week," The advisor said, wringing his hands. "Now, King, this is all just a rumor, but it came from the tundra villages, and they're always the first to be attacked."  
                "The North's main base is near the tundra villages," Minho said in a quiet voice, his eyes narrowed. "Better safe than sorry!" He exclaimed suddenly as he patted the advisor's shoulder before turning on his heel and dashing down the hall.   
                _There haven't been any North Koreans near the palace in years_ , Minho thought as he skid around a corner and shoved past a pair of guards. _They shouldn't have been able to figure out where the compound is, unless_ … Minho stopped and leaned up against a wall, smacking his forehead. "Major Taemin." He said out loud. "How does he still remember?"   
                Minho cursed and picked up running again, coming to Lay's chambers first. "Lay," Minho said, breathless. "Gather the others, and the head guard. We need to convene an emergency meeting."   
                "What is it?" Lay asked in a worried voice as he threw down the book he was reading and snagged his sword off the top of a long and low chest of drawers, hurriedly tying it to his belt.   
                "The North's planning a siege of the palace, I just got word of it from an advisor."   
                Lay followed Minho out as they rushed down the hall, pulling on fingerless sword fighting gloves and running his tongue along his upper lip. "How long do we have?"   
                "About a week, he said."   
                Lay's hands balled into fists. "I'll get Jongdae and Luhan since they're in the lower levels."   
                Minho nodded and they split, Lay running to the stairs down to the lower floors, and Minho running to the training ring, where he knew Jinki would be. He found Jinki swinging blows with his sword at a young trainee, shouting instructions and encouragements amongst the clamor of blades clashing.   
                "Jinki!" Minho called, tripping to a stop at the raised edge of the hexagonal training ring. "We're calling an emergency meeting." Jinki bobbed his head as he sheathed his sword, the trainee having bent into a ninety degree bow for the King, and jumped out of the ring, shouting to the young boy that training would be postponed until further notice. "We're preparing for siege," Minho explained as Jinki followed him to collect up Tao from the martial arts gymnasium and Kris his study. They trailed behind, casting each other glances before asking about the hurry. Minho explained again, Tao's eyes widening and Kris clenching his jaw.   
                "They're coming in a week?" Tao pressed, tugging on his black wushu uniform, slippered feet scuffing along the concrete hall.   
                "That's the rumor," Minho said from the front of the group.   
                "We're acting on a rumor?" Kris scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Isn't that a little… paranoid?"  
                "The rumor came from the tundra villages, near where the North Koreans have their main base, and I have a hunch it's true." Minho flicked a glance over his shoulder at Kris, and Lay, Luhan and Jongdae merged with the group as they headed towards the meeting room.   
                They filed inside and took their places around the circular table as Jongdae shut and bolted the door for confidentiality's sake. A single electric light hung from the ceiling above the center of the table, casting an eerie light on them. Minho took his seat opposite the door, and put his elbows on the table.   
                "So as you've been told," he began. "The North Koreans are planning a siege of the royal compound. We don't know how long this plan has been in the works, but we're assuming they're coming in approximately a week."   
                "This seems really out of the blue," Luhan speculated, fidgeting with his fingers. "And how did they find the palace? There hasn't been a spy or battle anywhere nearby in the past five years, unless…" He trailed off, his eyes growing foggy with realization.   
                "Major Lee Taemin." Minho finished. "He's kept it from his side until now."   
                Kris crossed his legs, his knee bumping the underside of the concrete table. "He's going to expect the defense to be similar to what was up when he escaped." He folded his arms. "We're going to need to change it."   
                "Kris, there isn't much we can change." Minho interjected, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on his knuckles. "We'll always need to have Luhan and his team in the CCTV room, and using archers is the best kind of long-distance defense I can come up with, since we don't have access to guns like the North Koreans."   
                Kris pressed his lips together. "What if we used crossbows instead of recurve bows, and arranged the men like snipers. It'll be modern and unexpected."   
                Minho nodded, pulling back into thought. "That's a good idea." He turned to Jongdae. "Get your guardsmen stationed at the door of every room on the ground floor, second floor, and all the lower levels. One at each door will do." Jongdae gave a thumbs up and leaned back in his chair. "Lay and Jinki, can you two get the militias ready? We'll need about four hundred men."   
                "Fifty to a unit?" Jinki asked, rubbing his wrists.   
                "For eight units total? Sounds about right." Minho rubbed his chin. "Tao," Minho addressed the youngest. "Do you think your hand-to-hand combat men are ready for a fight? It's been a year since you started training them, correct?"  
                "That is correct." Tao confirmed, his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the table. "I think they're ready. I have about a hundred men, is that enough?"   
                Minho nodded. "Let's have them positioned behind Lay and Jinki's units, as a sort of last defense. I trust your combat unit is strong enough to hold up, okay?" Tao smiled, and Minho sat back. "So essentially," Minho said to the entire group. "The goal is to stand our ground and not get killed." He stood up from his chair, his silk robes rustling as he moved. "All instructions to be executed immediately." Minho concluded, and Jongdae got up to unbolt the door, allowing everyone out as they scattered in opposite directions towards their areas of the palace. Minho rushed to his chambers to slough off the outermost layers of his silk robes, leaving them in a pile on his king-size bed, wearing now only the tunic and a knee-length overcoat. The weight off his shoulders was relieving, and he instantly rushed down to the prison cells.   
                _Kibum,_ he thought as he grabbed the bars of Kibum's cell and slid to a stop. _He needs to know_. "Kibum!" Minho blurted.   
                Kibum stood up in the back corner of the cell and staggered forward to reach for Minho between the bars. He grasped Minho's tunic with clammy fingers, his hair disheveled and his face dirty. "You didn't come for two days, I was starting to worry." Kibum's voice rattled.   
                "Bad news," Minho said, leaning forward. "The North's planning a siege on the palace."   
                "That's bad news?" Kibum laughed, and Minho wondered if the conditions of his cell were starting to get to him. "When they come, find Sehun and Chanyeol and send them to me and I'll talk to them directly." Minho saw the spark of genius in Kibum's eyes. "I know you haven't arranged a meeting with them yet."   
                Minho looked down. "That's true." He whipped his head up again. "But the siege, Kibum! My armies are strong but we're not ready. There's not enough food here if the North decides to cut off our supply lines from the farming villages.  And what if-"  
                Kibum cut Minho off. "The North is too impatient to wait for you to starve." He licked his lips. "Besides, they already messed with your food and water when they poisoned the South Korean water supply some thirty years ago. I doubt they'll do something similar again."   
                Sighing, Minho closed his eyes. "It's just so sudden, and it's been so long since we held any North Koreans captive."  
                "You're holding me captive." Kibum stared at Minho with glistening eyes until Minho's eyelids fluttered open again.   
                "You're different." Minho breathed.  
                It was hard for Kibum to reach to hug Minho between the bars, and they both knew this kind of contact wasn't enough.

                                XXXII.                                             

                It was mid-morning four days later when the North Koreans came. One of the crossbow snipers calmly paged Luhan in the CCTV room when he saw the troop in the near distance, and Luhan instantly sent the info out, calling for the units to assemble and prepare for an attack. Quickly, the soldiers gathered in the expansive courtyard, four units wide and two units deep, with Tao and the hand-to-hand combat unit in the back, and Minho, Lay, Kris and Jinki in the front, Kris and Jinki on either end of their line holding tall flagpoles fluttering the South Korean flag. Minho and each of his elite five had one of Luhan's earpiece receivers clipped to their ear with Luhan's oh-so light breathing shaking in their eardrums.    
                "If they use a battering ram, remember to instantly rush to barricade the doors." Minho said to the soldiers as he turned around. "And always stand your ground. We can't let them win." Minho glanced at his friends on either side of him. "No doubt they're after me. Even if I'm down, never stop pushing them back. If they gain control of the royal compound, they'll have control over the entire planet."   
                A hearty "Yes, sir!" chorused from the units, and Minho cracked the tiniest of smiles. He turned around and they waited for the first sounds of attack.   
                Exactly seven minutes later, the stamping of boots could be heard, and coarse grunting as what probably was a battering ram, or perhaps a small trebuchet, was hefted by soldiers. The doors rattled slightly, and Minho held up his hand, signaling his soldiers to wait. He listened closely.   
                The soft clack of flint stones.   
                "They're using explosives, everyone get back, _now_!" Minho bellowed, turning on his heel and booking it towards the back of the courtyard. The soldiers parted for him, quickly following the instruction and clearing away from the huge wooden front doors. With a loud _bang_ , the doors were blasted to bits, the chunks of wood and splinters flying every which way and at the soldiers on both sides of what used to be the doors.   
                Immediately, the North Korean army moved inside, the front lines holding up large shields, protecting the following men from attacks from Minho's army. Minho held up his arm and brought it down in a smooth sweep, directing the units to charge. They ran forward, swords and spears clacking against shields in glancing blows. Frantically, Minho looked around, and suddenly Luhan's voice was in his ear. "There isn't anybody in any of the blind spots, and there aren't any other troops attacking from any other side."   
                Minho pressed the call button on his earpiece. "What?" He asked, but stopped to draw his sword and cut down a North Korean foot soldier. "So then… we don't need all the archers on the other walls?"   
                Kris' voice came through the earpiece next. "I wouldn't be so quick to move any archers from their positions, it could be that they're waiting for us to relax on security on the other walls before they attack from a different side."  
                "Good point." Minho huffed, his eyes scanning the masses for Chanyeol and Sehun. "Luhan, don't page any of the archers. Keep them where they are. How do the corridors look?"   
                A fuzzy silence, and Minho exchanged a few strikes another soldier before grabbing him by the breastplate, throwing him on the stone-paved ground, and stepping on his chest.   
                "The corridors look fine. Focus on the fight." Minho could hear the click as Luhan released the call button.   
                Minho pressed his mouth in to a firm line, and in a moment of not paying attention, Minho was caught in the back of the leg by a fierce-looking North Korean, his sword ripping from his flesh with a wet sound. Minho staggered. "You realize you could've just slipped your sword between my ribs in that time and have been done with me, right?" He taunted, and turned on his heel and stuck his blade in the soldier's side, angrily pulling it out as the soldier dropped to the ground in a pool of blood. Minho scrutinized the chaotic courtyard before ducking his head and escaping to a small corridor to inspect the gash in the back of his leg. He pulled away crimson fingers, hissing under his breath as he glanced back out at the warring sides. His eyes looked carefully for Sehun and Chanyeol, the freedom fighter spies, but amongst the gleam of blades and shields, he could barely locate his own men, let alone a pair of freedom fighters posing as North Koreans. Quickly, Minho wiped his bloody fingers on his tunic and readjusted his grip on his sword, gulping and dashing back into the thick of the fight.  
                The sounds were deafening—the royal compound's courtyard amplified the metallic clamor and the soldiers' wounded cries as the fight escalated. Out of the corner of his eye, Minho saw Lay drop to one knee, clutching at his upper arm with reddened fingers. Minho's eyes flicked upward, and he spied Chanyeol standing above Lay with a bloodied sword. Like lightning, Minho vaulted over a few dead bodies and pushed one of his own men down and out of the way, reaching Chanyeol and Lay just before Chanyeol could deliver a crippling blow to Lay. Minho launched himself at Chanyeol, tackling him to the ground and knocking his sword out of his hands. "Where's Sehun?" Minho demanded as Chanyeol tried to wrestle Minho away, writhing and flailing his limbs. Eyes wide, Lay jumped to his feet, casting a glance at Minho before backing away, sword arm limp, and running in the other direction. Minho grabbed Chanyeol by the shoulders. "Where is he?"  
                "Why do you care?" Chanyeol spit, kicking as Minho yanked both of them to their feet.  
                "I've been asked to pull you two out of the battle for a little bit." Minho said, his breathing heavy.  
                Chanyeol's eyes widened and he threw off Minho's grip on his arm. "I don't know where Sehun is." He growled.  
                Minho snatched his arm again. "Kibum asked to see you." Minho said in a low voice, leaning close to Chanyeol's ear.  
                Chanyeol jumped back, aghast. "He should be dead. He's dead. Kibum was supposed to die months ago. There's no way he's alive, and there's no way I'm a freedom fighter, either."  
                "Right now, the fate of the war rests on whether or not you trust me that Kibum is alive." Minho still gripped Chanyeol's arm, his fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic. "Either you can trust me, or we all die at the hands of the North Koreans."  
                Chanyeol's face grew hard. "I don't know who told you I'm a freedom fighter, and I'll go with you,  but I hope you understand there's no way Kibum is alive. If this is a ruse, it isn't funny, okay? Sehun's over there." Chanyeol thumped Minho on the chest with the back of his hand, and motioned with his head to the corner of the courtyard where Sehun was fighting. Minho gave Chanyeol a stern look, and let go of his arm. Chanyeol picked up his sword and wiped off Lay's blood before sheathing it and following after Minho as he went to find Sehun.  
                With both freedom fighters in tow, Minho led them down to the prison cells where Kibum was, pushing past the guards with the lame excuse that Chanyeol and Sehun were "captives". Hearing the patter of feet, Kibum pushed himself off the floor of his cell where he was sprawled in a half-hearted attempt to sleep and rose to his feet, scratching his head. He saw Minho first, his eyes lighting up at the sight of him, though he was limping and ragged. "Minho!" He exclaimed as Minho clasped his hands through the cell bars. "You're hurt."  
                "I'm fine," Minho reassured, and kissed the knuckles of Kibum's hands.  
                Kibum smiled, and looked over Minho's shoulders.  
                Seeing exactly who it was in the cell, Chanyeol and Sehun's eyes widened, and Chanyeol took a step back. "How—" Sehun began, floundering for words. Chanyeol put a hand over his heart, looking faint.  
                "Your execution was scheduled for months ago. How did you escape?" Chanyeol rushed to grip the bars of the cell, his knuckles white. "Oh, never mind, you can tell me some other time. I'm just glad you're alive." Chanyeol turned to Minho, who still held Kibum's hands. "I'm so sorry for doubting you." His eyes travelled to their hands. "But um… why the affection?"  
                Flustered, Minho dropped Kibum's hands, and rubbed his palms on his trousers. "Sorry." He muttered.  
                "Wait. You two aren't…" Sehun started, leaving the implication dangling in the air. Minho and Kibum blinked, and Chanyeol's mouth hung agape. Sehun covered his mouth with a hand. "Are you?"  
                "Are we what?" Minho breezed, feigning innocence. "It's a common South Korean gesture to hold someone's hands." Chanyeol and Sehun continued to stare. Kibum covered his face with one hand.  
                "You lovebirds." Sehun laughed, flipping his hand to cover his mouth with the back of his hand as he chuckled.  
                Minho colored, his cheeks turning red, and Chanyeol unleashed a deranged laugh. "Don't you tell a soul, or it'd be the end of all of us." Minho hissed through his embarrassment. Sehun and Chanyeol laughed for a moment longer before returning to seriousness and nodding.  
                Kibum cleared his throat, his cheeks still slightly red from blushing, and caught the others' attention. "So um, the real reason why we're here." He said to break the silence, and Minho sprung into action, using his sword to break open the lock on Kibum's cell. A guard up the stairs heard the commotion, and before he could rush down, Minho slammed the main door to the prison cells shut, and slid the bolt to lock it. Kibum stepped outside his cell, eyes wide, and touched Chanyeol on the shoulder in a familiar manner. "Minho and I have decided to join forces to overthrow the North Korean government," he said as the four of them pulled into a circle. "And I know you two have all the information we need."  
                "We'll tell you everything we know." Chanyeol said, his eyes clouded with firey intent.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

                "A rebellion?" Sehun asked, tipping his head to the side.   
                Kibum nodded.   
                "I don't know, Kibum, it doesn't sound like it would work." Chanyeol rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed.   
                "Have a little faith, Chanyeol. This is the break we've been waiting for. The opportunity is right before us, and we'd be stupid not to take it." Kibum wrung his hands, his eyes frantic. Minho stood with his arms folded, slightly outside the circle, having taken that stance when Kibum explained their plan to rebel and overthrow the North Korean government with the North Korean citizens' power. "If one of you can make it back to our planet for just a short while to plant it in rebel citizens' ears that they need to scramble everything in the government and sabotage the supply lines from there to Exo, everything will go well, I think. But we for sure have to get the citizens to help, and we absolutely _must_ pull together the freedom fighters again, and smuggle at least the base leaders from the capital back to Exo on the Module. When is the next recruiting back home?"   
                "Two months from now." Sehun answered. Chanyeol looked deep in thought.   
                Kibum nodded, and the cogs in his head could almost be heard as they turned and clicked. "Okay. That'll work. Sehun, do you think you can make it back to the North's capital before the recruiting?"   
                "Definitely." Sehun said, folding his hands behind his back. Before Sehun had been assigned the mission of joining the North Korean army as a spy, he had trained extensively in breaking and entering, infiltration, and stealth.   
                "I need you to get the freedom fighters to join the North Korean army when the recruiting happens. Do you remember how many fighters we had gathered the last time we gathered? Also, are Shim and Jung still in the capital?" Kibum asked, leaning back on his left leg.   
                Sehun scratched his head. "As far as I know, Shim and Jung should still be in the capital, but it's been a while since we've heard from them. And the last time we freedom fighters congregated was years ago, but we had several thousand people… maybe two thousand?"  
                Minho nodded minutely, impressed.   
                "No, we had more than that. It was more like five thousand." Chanyeol interjected, his eyebrows still knit. "Maybe six." He looked rather funny, with his eyebrows mashed together in a 'v' and his mouth hanging slightly open from the mental exertion.   
                "Is it possible to bring all those fighters to Exo?" Minho flipped his hair and put his hands on his hips. Listening to the other three talk about what exactly the freedom fighters were, and how this plan could be executed made Minho feel that not all hope was lost, and that there was a glimmer of victory in the distance. Minho cracked a smile and fidgeted with the hilt of his sword.   
                Chanyeol shook his head. "Not all of them, and probably not on any North Korean inter-space ships."  
                "Couldn't we use my ships?" Minho's smile melted into a small frown.   
                Chanyeol took his hand off his chin and stared at Minho.   
                "You have inter-space ships?" Sehun leaned forward, his mouth slightly agape.   
                "How do you think we got here?" Minho scoffed. "Our ships are old, but they've been kept in mint condition. You know, just in case."  
                "It sounds like it should be a good idea," Chanyeol said, and his hand went right back to rubbing his chin. "But there's no way we could have all our fighters over here on Exo and still have any hope of fending off the North Korean army on our own planet."  
                Minho sucked in an audible breath. "Good point." A pause. "Do you still think it'd be possible to bring at least some men over here to Exo? We can always use the extra manpower."   
                "Well, how big are your inter-space ships?" Kibum pressed, hugging his arms to himself.   
                "The largest fits up to two thousand, but the smallest is stealthier and fits about five hundred."   
                Kibum looked to Chanyeol and Sehun, and they appeared to almost communicate telepathically, Chanyeol nodding after a moment of eye contact. "We could make two trips with the smallest for a total of a thousand people." Chanyeol suggested, shifting excitedly, yet with some anxiety, from foot to foot, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. His face brightened ever so slightly, and he broke into a toothy grin, his left eye giving a small twitch.   
                Minho shrugged. "Good enough for me."

                                XXXIV.  
  
                Just a level above the prison cells, Luhan watched a wall of small screens with a team of three young men, the dim colors on the televisions somewhat mellowing. Luhan sat back in his rolling chair, scrolling through the hundreds of images on the screens with a remote tablet, twenty five or so screens switching with a lazy flick of his finger. Carefully, his eyes scanned the new set of security camera images. On either side of him, his small intelligence team did the same, the blue light from their tablets casting their almost too young faces in cyan shadows. Luhan froze. He rolled closer to the desk that the screens were behind, his eyes having lighted upon the screen labeled PRI129 in small pixilated white letters. He squinted.   
                Four people stood huddled together in the middle of the room of prison cells, the two facing the camera's viewpoint clothed in North Korean soldier's uniforms. Luhan stifled a gasp, recognizing the person closest to the camera. Slowly, he raised a hand to press the call button on his earpiece. "Minho," he said, cautiously. "Where are you?"   
                Luhan watched Minho squirm as his hand flew to his ear. Minho held up a finger to silence the others he was with. "I'm in the courtyard. Is something up?" Minho's voice came through the receiver slightly crackled.   
                "Who are you with? Who are the two Northerners?" Luhan was almost paralyzed with an inexplicable fear. North Koreans meant destruction. North Koreans meant losing something. Luhan caught the beginning half of Minho's "Oh, shit" as Minho pulled his hand off the call button. On the tiny screen, Luhan watched Minho pull out his earpiece and crush it under the heel of his boot, and look around frantically for the security camera. He nudged the tallest North Korean once he found it, and was handed a crossbow, which he loaded and aimed at the lens. "He wouldn't—" Luhan murmured, and the screen for PRI129 went black.   
                "Something's up." Luhan shouted, standing up and sending his rolling chair halfway across the room. "Camera PRI129 just blacked out after some suspicious activity involving the King. This is a level five security breach. Get going!" Luhan's three young operatives gasped in chorus, looking up from their screens. "Page head guard Jongdae and get some men down there, pronto." Luhan commanded, putting his hands on his desk and leaning forward.   
                "Yes, sir!" One of the young men responded, and began furiously tapping on his glass tablet, using his other hand to fumblingly put on his microphone headset. The intelligence operative cleared his throat. "Head guard Kim Jongdae, we have a level five security breach in section P-R-I… 1-2-9… King Choi Minho is involved. We need backup down there immediately." A quick silence. "Thank you, sir."  
                Luhan's brow furrowed as he continued to stare at PRI129's black screen. "What are you up to, Minho?" Luhan whispered, chewing his lip. He sighed and went to fetch his chair, hearing the patter of guards' feet as they raced by the CCTV room to the prisons level.

                                XXXV.

                "We need to wrap it up, now." Minho hissed, handing the crossbow back to Chanyeol. "I forgot about the security cameras, and one of my men just now saw us."  
                Chanyeol and Sehun's mouths hung agape, and Kibum's eyes almost bugged out of his head.   
                "He'll more than likely send people down here, and there's no other way out of this area than the door there." Minho jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the  bolted door. It rattled with a sudden impact, and Kibum gasped. Minho wrapped a hand around Kibum's elbow, taking a step closer to him. "Kibum, how do you feel about a new cell?"   
                Kibum looked at Minho with scared, curious eyes. "I’m sorry?"   
                "Chanyeol, Sehun—" Minho said in a low, dark voice. When that door is broken down, draw your swords and book it. And don't listen to anything I shout after you, okay? Just get out of here. Kill anyone you need to, except for anyone who's unarmed and or not wearing a military uniform."  
                Chanyeol and Sehun nodded, pulling their swords from their sheaths with uneasy faces. Minho tightened his grip on Kibum's elbow, and gulped.   
                "We'll find you again, alright?" Kibum whispered, reaching out and brushing Sehun's elbow. "It was nice to see you boys again."   
                Sehun gave a small smile, and dipped his head. "Yeah." He said, and Chanyeol straightened to give a quick ninety-degree bow.   
                Kibum waved delicately, and the bolted door burst open, prison guards spilling in. Suddenly, Minho jerked Kibum back by the elbow, and opened his mouth to unleash a deafening bellow.   
                "Worthless bastards!" Minho boomed, and Sehun and Chanyeol sprinted forward, pushing against the guards. "Stop them!" Minho played up a stagger, his leg still bleeding from earlier, and grunted in pain.   
                Chanyeol put his blade between the ribs of a guard, and vaulted over his body as he dropped to the ground. Casting a backwards glance over his shoulder, Chanyeol met Minho's eyes, and nodded minutely. Minho returned the gesture, and took a few clumsy steps forward.   
                "Get back here, you pieces of shit!" Minho screamed as Chanyeol and Sehun stumbled up the concrete stairs, seven or so guards on their tail. "Kibum, make some noise." Minho said under his breath, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb into Kibum's arm.  
                Kibum resisted against Minho for a moment, confused, before completely grasping the situation. "Let go of me!" Kibum cried, using his free hand to grab Minho's fingers around his arm and pretending to grapple with him.   
                "Guards!" Minho called, giving Kibum a rough shake.   
                "Ah!" Kibum whimpered as two guards rushed up to Minho, swords drawn and faces harried.   
                "What happened?" One of the guards pressed, looking from Minho to Kibum.   
                "I followed those sneaky North Korean bitches down here, and they tried to sabotage us and free the freedom fighter, and assassinate me." Minho made a show of babying his slashed thigh. "Here." Minho thrust Kibum at the guards, and one hesitantly grabbed him by the elbow. "Take him. The old cell is broken, so you can just put him in a different cell."   
                "Yes, sir." The guards replied, and Minho pushed past them with a limp, casting the smallest of glances over his shoulder at Kibum's panicked face.

                                XXXVI.                         

                With difficulty, Minho climbed his way back up the stairs, the gash on the back of his thigh finally getting to him and clouding his vision with pain. When he reached the ground level again, he was met with the still-raging fight, his own side having successfully pushed the North Koreans back a good few hundred feet. A quick scan of the masses brought to his sight his own men still fighting back despite injuries, Kris locked in hand-to-hand combat with Major Lee Taemin, and the barely-escaped Chanyeol and Sehun carefully minding themselves towards the back of the melee. A quick glance to his right, and then something horrible.   
                "Papa!" The broken cry wrenched Minho's heart in two, and his stomach dropped. Iseul.  
                Trapped against the wall by a terrifying and rapidly approaching North Korean, just out of reach of Minseok, who Minho had called to the palace to take special care of his daughter. Minseok fought hard against the soldier holding him back, and in a split second, Minho launched himself the soldier advancing on his six-year-old.   
                He snapped a fist back and decked the man, then drew his sword and offed him, swooping down to cradle a bawling Iseul. "Shh, Papa's here." He soothed, rubbing her back and smearing blood accidentally on her pristine white nightgown. Iseul buried her face in the crook of Minho's neck, and Minho hooked an arm under her bottom, lifting her up smoothly. Swiftly, Minho used the pommel of his sword to knock out the North Korean soldier grappling with Minseok, delivering a sharp blow to the back of the soldier's neck. Minho grabbed Minseok's arm with sword still in hand, and dragged him down a hallway leading deeper into the royal compound. Pushing past a guard and into the last room in the hall, Minho threw Minseok's arm away from himself, shouting. "How did she get out?" Minho pressed.  
                "I turned my back for barely half a moment and she was gone! I swear it wasn't my fault." Minseok dropped to his knees, holding his hands in front of himself in a pleading manner.  
                Minho threw his sword down and it clattered on the concrete floor, Iseul bawling louder at the sudden noise. "You let my six-year-old daughter wander into the bloodiest fight this palace has ever seen, and you say it _wasn't your fault_?" He hissed, hugging Iseul tight. "What a load of bullshit!" Minho shouted. "If you let her out of your sight again…" Minho trailed off, squatting down and placing Iseul on her feet. He gave her shoulders a squeeze, giving her a worn smile with a tired and dirty face. "You stay with Brother Minseok, you hear?"   
                Iseul rubbed her eyes with clenched fists. "You're hurt, Papa." She sniffled. "D… Don't go."   
                "I'll be back as soon as we win, Iseul. Stay put and don't go anywhere. I love you." Minho enfolded his daughter in his arms, burying his face in her feather-soft hair. He reluctantly let her go and stood to his full height, picking his sword up off the floor stepping around Iseul to help Minseok to his feet. "It will be your _end_ if she is put in danger like that again." Minho threatened in a low voice, pulling Minseok close by the front of his monk's robe.  
                Minseok nodded frantically, and rushed to take Iseul's hand as soon as Minho let him go. Pausing at the door, Minho shot Minseok a glare before turning on his heel and sprinting down the hall.   
                Once in the courtyard again, Minho found and joined up with Jinki, helping him to drive back a barrage of North Korean soldiers. Jinki gave a quick smile, twirling his twin swords. Minho returned it, with difficulty, and stumbled from his slashed and throbbing thigh.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

                Exhausted, Minho looked out over the destroyed courtyard, bodies and rubble strewn everywhere, a few still-living soldiers groaning their last breaths. A sheen of sweat slicked his forehead, and Minho's obsidian black sword tumbled from his grip, tired hands no longer able to hold on. The two moons of Exo shed eerie bright moonlight on the area, casting everything in dim shadows. Minho swayed, finally dropping to his knees to catch his lost breath. He swallowed, his throat dry, and closed his eyes, the late evening air growing chilly. North Korea had pulled back at the last minute, but not before having decimating half of Minho's troops and wrecking the palace grounds. Minho pressed his palm to his forehead, his gut heaving.   
                He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Minho let his hand slide off his forehead, and his eyes cracked open to see Kris standing at his shoulder, face tired and dirty. "Luhan is looking for you." Kris whispered in a low and cracking voice, his exhaustion evident. "He's in your study." Kris managed a weak brotherly look before patting Minho's shoulder and turning to ghost back into the palace.   
                "Thanks," Minho said as Kris left, biting his lip and looking at the ground. He sighed, and followed after Kris.   
                Reaching his study, Minho pushed aside the heavy curtain on the door, and limped inside to find Luhan standing at the window, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders slumped. Hearing the rustle of the curtain and Minho's clothes, Luhan turned around, his face grim.   
                "Don't you dare tell a soul." Minho seethed in a low voice, keeping a good distance away from Luhan.   
                "I just want to know what's going on." Luhan said, almost too loudly. "I don't understand your motives right now."   
                Minho took a few steps forward. "You don't need to understand. Just wait."   
                Luhan unclasped his hands and put them on his hips. "I want to know, Minho." Luhan's voice rose in volume. "Now's not a time to keep someone like me in the dark! I run this palace's intelligence and security! I see it all. This palace becomes vulnerable if there are things I don't know!" Luhan barked a laugh. "I don't think you know just how much of an asset I am to the royal compound." He stepped forward to meet Minho in the middle of the room, glaring up into Minho's guarded eyes.   
                "I know exactly what your position in my palace is, and I can strip it from you at any given moment." Minho spat in a low voice. "Do not forget your origins, Luhan, and who it is that gave you a place and a purpose in the royal compound." Minho gripped Luhan's upper arm. "I can control who sees what, and when. Just sit back and forget earlier. You will be pleasantly surprised in a few months."   
                Luhan's pretty face grew dim at Minho's words. This position that was so kindly gifted to him… He was abusing it. The realization struck him with a sickening pang, and he nodded.  
                "If I find that you've leaked what happened down in the prisons, you'll be back on the streets where you belong." Minho shoved away Luhan's arm, his threat stabbing at Luhan's heart with venomous cruelty.   
                Luhan could only nod again, eyes wide as Minho limped out of his study. Watching the door's curtain flutter shut, Luhan rubbed his arm where Minho's crushing grip had been. Something was up, Luhan could tell. Was Minho reconnoitering with the enemy? Had he joined their side? Why was the freedom fighter prisoner included? Luhan shook his head and hugged his arms to himself. "He's a good man," Luhan whispered to himself. "He probably knows what he's getting himself into. Just trust him, Luhan. It'll be okay." Luhan shook himself and glanced around King Minho's private study before padding out.

                                XXXVIII.

                The next few days passed painfully and slowly. The royal compound stank of death, and the atmosphere was so heavy that it seemed to drip and quietly weep. The only thing that Minho wanted to do was run to Kibum and bury himself in Kibum's arms—but that was the last thing Minho could even consider doing. Now, he had to watch his every move with utmost care, being careful not to say or do a single wrong thing.  
                On the fourth day after the palace's invasion, Minho finally got the chance to check with Tao and his special fighter unit. Minho met with Tao and the unit's quite surprising assistant Captain—a pretty but boyish young woman with the surname Liu—in the royal compound's martial arts gymnasium at ten in the morning. When he arrived, Tao and assistant Captain Liu received Minho with respectful bows, both clothed fully in their uniforms.   
                "Tao. Miss Liu." Minho greeted them, returning the bow. "How did your unit hold up? I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to check with you sooner."   
                Assistant Captain Liu looked to Tao for permission to speak, and Tao granted it with a nod of his head. "In total, we lost twenty five fighters, but overall, we had good success in the battle. Captain Tao trained us well."   
                "Was it at all daunting to be faced with weaponry when you're unarmed?" Minho pressed. He was impressed with the unit's stamina and success, but the way they didn't use weapons was… concerning. Unarmed soldiers on a battlefield seemed like begging for casualties.   
                "Not at all, sir." Liu answered, shaking her head. Her shaggy hair was pulling into a small nub of a ponytail at the base of her skull, a few too-short pieces framing her impish face. "We were extensively trained on how to disarm an opponent, so weapons are no worry of ours."   
                Minho nodded. "Tao, how would you say your unit's performance was?"   
                Tao shrugged passively. "Good, but not as good as we could have been. There were twenty five casualties too many." He cracked a smirk.  
                Minho chuckled, and folded his arms. "You all did a great job. Keep up the good work."   
                "Thank you, Your Highness." Liu said proudly, and both she and Tao bowed deeply.   
                Tao turned to assistant Captain Liu. "Amber, I'd like to speak to the King. You can go." Tao said to Liu in Mandarin, addressing her by her given name. Amber Liu gave a warm smile and bowed to Tao before striding out of the gymnasium.   
                Tao waited until she was out of earshot before looking back and Minho, but Minho spoke first. "Where did you find her?" He asked with a light laugh.   
                "She's always been in the army's lower ranks, and I saw her practicing kung fu in secret a few times before I started recruiting from my special unit. And once we began training, I thought she showed the most potential, so I promoted her to assistant Captain." Tao grinned with delight.  
                "It's amazing you have a woman in your ranks. She's valuable to you, correct?" Minho and Tao strolled over to a bench on the side of the gymnasium, and sat.   
                "Oh, naturally." Tao exhaled heavily. "In fact, I have several women in my unit. They're all much swifter than the men, so they all managed to survive the North Korean invasion."  
                "How many do you have in total?"   
                "Five, including assistant Captain Liu." Tao turned more towards Minho on the bench. "This is insignificant though. There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."  
                "What is it?" Minho's brow crinkled as he picked up on the worry in Tao's voice.  
                Tao shifted anxiously. "Yesterday I overheard some of the prison guards talking, and apparently there's some kind of plan to quietly execute the freedom fighter prisoner today. I thought you might like to know, judging by the way you acted when Jinki and I found you in the mountains…" Tao trailed off, and Minho's jaw hit the floor.   
                "Are you being serious?" Minho asked, jumping to his feet. He couldn't believe it! The palace guard would dare to bypass his authority? Not only that, but execute the most important person on Exo? Minho grabbed Tao by his shirtfront and drug him to his feet. "I need more details, Tao!" Shaking Tao, Minho's eyes implored the younger to help him. "Where? When? Who planned? Tell me!" Minho's voice rose to a bellow, and Tao's eyes snapped wide open.   
                "I don't know what time, but they're going to behead him or bleed him out or… you know, something like that. Behind the royal compound. That's all I know! I swear." Tao put his hands up defensively, and Minho let go of his shirt front, the look in his eyes becoming detached.   
                "Thank you ." Minho said, his voice rigid. He gave Tao a curt nod before sprinting out of the gym to find the execution.   
                Minho's heart thundered in his chest, but not from running. His mind was racing as he turned corners and dodged servants and guards. How could his own palace guard betray him and execute the one he loves? Not that they knew, of course. Minho burst out one of the palace's back gates and looked about frantically. _Kibum can't die now_ , Minho thought. _I need him for too much at this point._ Sweat poured down Minho's face and neck, and he took a guess and ran to his right, eyes fervently searching. Still nothing. Perhaps it wasn't time yet. Perhaps… it had already happened. Minho's stomach fell to what felt like the center of planet Exo. "No!" He cried, clutching at his uneasy gut. _No no no no._ His eyes rolled about like marbles in his head, searching, searching. Minho ran to his left. He prayed to Buddha and all the gods he knew, even the ancient Earth gods whose names he couldn't recall, that Kibum was still alive. Then, through a blur of sweat—he saw.  
                A small entourage of prison guards, perhaps seven or eight, surrounded a slim man in a dirty white cotton prison uniform. On the outside of the cluster, with hands clasped behind their back or hands on hips, stood three men. Disgust crept up Minho's throat like bile. He picked up speed. The prison guards forced the prisoner down to his knees, and there was a sickening hiss as a sword was pulled from its scabbard. Minho's heart skipped far too many beats. A gleam of light from the sword momentarily blinded Minho, and the blade's edge was touched to the back of the eerily compliant Kibum's neck. Minho's eyes widened, and the sword rose.   
                "NO!" Minho roared, bursting into a leg-breaking sprint. He pushed aside the prison guards and slid between the sword and Kibum, eyes fierce, ready to receive the already in motion executing blow.   
                A gasp from the outskirts of the group. "Stop right there!" A light voice shrieked. _Luhan_ , Minho recognized, just as the prison guard's sword made biting contact with his right shoulder. The prison guard made a strangled noise, staring at the sword in his hands that was now covered in blood—the King's blood! Minho's chin dropped, his shaggy brown hair shrouding his grimace of pain. He held out his arms in a protective stance, Kibum still kneeling behind him.   
                Luhan shoved the guard with the sword aside as he made his way to stand in front of Minho. Minho took a deep, shuddering breath, and he could feel Kibum's body warmth move away as he rose to his feet. "Minho…" Kibum said quietly and fearfully. Minho let his arms drop to his sides.   
                With some difficulty, Minho lifted his head to meet Luhan's blank stare.  
                Luhan had planned this execution, Minho just knew it. Slowly moving to clutch at his bleeding right shoulder, Minho laughed quietly to himself, knowing that this accident would be the perfect punishment for Luhan.   
                "Why?" Luhan demanded, Jongdae and, to Minho's surprise, Lay appearing at Luhan's side.   
                Minho mulled the simple question over in his mind. "Why did I just take the hit?" Minho ventured. A fire burned in Minho's eyes as he glared at Luhan. "Because you dared to sidestep my authority and murder the most crucial person to the plan that is about to unfold. Because you dared to leak the secret I needed you to keep. And most importantly… because you put the person I love in danger."   
                "Minho, don't—" Kibum began, taking a step forward before being interrupted by Jongdae.   
                "Come again?" He stuttered, creeping closer to Luhan. "T-the person you love?"   
                Luhan's face was devoid of all expression save for sheer astonishment. Lay had been lost to the conversation some time before, and wore only a confused frown, his empty eyes locked on the ground before him. The air was curiously silent. The prison guard holding the bloodied sword finally lost his weakened grip on the hilt, and the blade tumbled to the ground with a loud clang.  
                Minho cleared his throat, ready to clarify. "The man standing behind me right now is indeed the leader of the North Korean freedom fighters as you may have heard, and I love him. When I first met him, I'd just run away from my coronation, and found him amidst the rubble of an electrobike crash. He was badly injured, and I couldn't just leave him. Imagine if it were you. Would you leave a man alone to bleed to death in the middle of a forest? Of course not, no one deserves to die like that, not even a North Korean! After treating him as much as I could, I took him to Minseok's temple. And that's when Jinki and Tao were sent to find me.  
                "Kibum and I managed to escape, and while we were on the run, we both learned of each other's true identities. He learned that I was to be King, and I learned that he was the leader of the freedom fighters. And what I don't think you all know—" Minho glowered around at the prison guards. "—is that this man, Kibum, is the key to the defeat of North Korea."   
                The prison guards all shifted uneasily.   
                "You're making no sense, Minho." Luhan's voice shook with confusion.   
                Minho struggled to stand. Although his hand was still clamped on the cut on his shoulder, he was losing almost too much blood. It made him dizzy, and he swayed. The world spun before his eyes. "Let me explain—"  
                "I don't want to hear." Luhan snapped. "You've lost it, Minho. All this collaborating with the North Koreans bullshit… it's too strange. You've gone crazy." Luhan shook his head, eyebrows knit. He stepped backwards, folding his arms and bumping into Jongdae.   
                "Luhan, just listen!" Minho insisted, countering Luhan by stepping forward.   
                "I won't!" Luhan shouted.  
                Minho rushed forward and seized Luhan by the shoulders, giving him a violent shake. "I know it's crazy, but this is what we _need!_ The freedom fighters can do what we can't—and that's fight North Korea on their own planet! The freedom fighters want the exact same thing we do; Peace. And you know that we sure as hell aren't going to get anywhere if all we do is stand around and wait for some kind of savior! If we join forces with the freedom fighters, who are five thousand strong… we can win." Minho looked with desperation into Luhan's eyes, giving him another shake. Luhan stared back with complete fear written into his irises. "Do you understand me?" Minho's voice cracked and quieted. "We can win."   
                Luhan slowly shook his head, his mouth floundering for words. He still couldn't comprehend. Weren't all North Koreans the same? Didn't they all want to decimate the South Korean population? "But the North Koreans… us… Don't they hate us?" Luhan babbled.   
                With a  quiet rustle, Kibum stepped forward and put a hand on Minho's unharmed shoulder. "We're not all cruel," Kibum said, fingers digging into Minho's tunic. "We're not all like what you think. Most of us citizens just want to live peacefully. It's the army that hates South Korea and wants to take your planet by force." Kibum swallowed and stole a long glance at Minho. "Minho and I have a plan. But we cannot rush it, otherwise the North Korean army really will kill us all."   
                Minho's eyes dropped to stare at the ground.  
                "I told you we should just trust Minho." Lay whispered, rubbing his forehead with his palm.   
                Slowly, Luhan pried Minho's hands off his body and rubbed at the bloody smear from Minho's fingers. "Okay." He breathed. "Okay. I'll… wait." A few more steadying breaths. "I'm just really scared is all. You know I don't like having nothing and I'm so afraid we're going to lose it all to the Northern army." Luhan took a step back. "Congratulations, by the way. On falling in love again. Maybe we'll get to see you as happy as you were when Yunseo was still alive."  
                The mention of Yunseo's name struck Minho's heart like an arrow. His eyes slid shut and he fell forward and out of Kibum's grip, catching himself on his hands and knees. His angel, his sweet wife Yunseo. Her memory pained him, much like the fresh gash on his shoulder. Kneeling, Kibum wrapped an arm around Minho's torso, helping him to stand up again. "Minho?" Kibum said in a tiny voice.  
                "Thank you." Minho addressed Luhan. "For the congratulations. And I hope you can keep your word this time, that you'll wait. You shouldn't have any problem waiting from now on, because beginning now, you're restricted to staying only within the royal compound's walls. And you may only speak to someone if is about your work. King's order." Minho met Luhan's wide-eyed gaze. "I'm sorry for being strict, but you've crossed the line with me. You are dismissed and may return to your chambers. Lay, please escort him."  
                Lay nodded, and wrapped an hand around Luhan's elbow. "Come on, 'Han. We've fucked up enough for one day." Lay gently led Luhan away from the gathering and back inside the palace. All watched until their backs disappeared.   
                "Your Majesty!" Jongdae said once they were gone, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. "Please forgive me for insulting your authority, Luhan had said this was an order from you."   
                Sighing, Minho leaned heavily on Kibum. "Get up, Jongdae. It's alright, I don't blame you. You can take your men and go back to your posts."   
                Almost too quickly, Jongdae rose, rubbing his palms on his trousers, sweaty from nerves. "Thank you, sir." He said, bowing.  
                Minho shooed him away with his hand.   
                Jongdae gathered up his men, and was about to leave before he turned around. "Uh… the prisoner…" he began.  
                Minho shook his head. "He's not a prisoner. I'll be keeping this man by my side from now on." Minho could feel Kibum's fingers dig into his side.   
                Nodding, Jongdae turned around again and signaled his men to leave.  
                Faint, Minho collapsed as Jongdae left. "Ah!" Kibum gasped, struggling to catch the too-heavy Minho. Kibum settled for joining Minho kneeling on the ground instead, taking the King into his arms. "Minho, you're as white as a ghost." Kibum fret, pulling back from their quick hug to take a look at Minho's face.  
                "Hold me longer." Minho susurrated.  
                "You need to see a doctor. You don't look good at all."   
                "Minseok is here… at the palace." Minho whispered. "In the infirmary."   
                "Where is that? I'll take you." Kibum pushed Minho's hair out of his face, worry evolving into panic in his voice.   
                "Help me up."  
                Minho's voice was quiet and calm. Best not to talk too much with an upper body wound. Kibum helped Minho to his feet again, steadying him for a moment as Minho moved his bloodied hand to grasp his cut shoulder again. _I'm 28 years old,_ Minho thought bitterly. _At this rate, if I keep abusing my body, there won't be anything left to me by the time I'm 40._ Minho grit his teeth and began to march forward with help from Kibum. Kibum latched onto Minho's side, keeping him upright.                  
                "This is all my fault." Kibum choked, tears welling in his eyes. "It's my fault you're hurt."  
                Minho kept his focus on walking. "Don't be like this." He said softly.  
                "Minho, you jumped in front of a sword for me! How can I not be like this?" Kibum wiped furiously at his eyes.  
                "Go back to your old self. I liked you best when you were snarky to me."   
                "What?"   
                Minho chuckled faintly.  
                "Yah!" Kibum let go of Minho to smack him on his good shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance. "What did you just say?" Minho laughed, wavering. "I dare you to say it again! Who's snarky?"   
                Minho couldn't help the broad smile appearing on his face. "That's more like it."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

                                XXXIX.

                Kibum sat at Minho's bedside the entire time Brother Minseok stitched him up, fidgeting with the white bed sheet with downcast eyes. As Minseok snipped the final suture and began to bandage Minho's shoulder, Minho reached out a hand to stop Kibum's fussing.   
                "I'm glad it wasn't you," Minho whispered, cracking a smile.  
                "You're too careless with your body," Kibum said, taking Minho's hand into both his own. Minho could feel Kibum's light breath tickle his fingers.  
                Minseok pat down a piece of gauze on Minho's shoulder. Minho grimaced and sighed. "It's an occupational hazard." Kibum's chin dipped lower. "This is hardly anything, though. You should've seen what Joonmyun did to my other shoulder five or six years ago."   
                "How can anything be worse than this?" Kibum sniffed.  
                "He nearly ripped me in two, Kibum."   
                Kibum looked up into Minho's sad brown eyes. "But you didn't do it on purpose, jackass." Kibum averted his eyes once again.  
                "Look at me," Minho said after a short pause. Kibum didn't. "I don't care about what happens to my body. I don't care if I'm hurt on purpose or on accident, it all leaves scars just the same. What I really care about is your safety, the survival of my people, and the protection of this planet." Minho gripped Kibum's hand a little too tightly.  
                "You're going to get yourself killed if you go on like this," Kibum spat.  
                "Kibum, will you cut this for me?" Minseok interrupted, his hands full with white bandage. He gestured to a longish strip.   
                Kibum let go of Minho's hand. Minho immediately wished that Kibum would never stop holding his hand as the warmth left and Kibum stood to lean across the bed. "Of course," he said, reaching for a pair of scissors on Minseok's little tray of tools. Kibum snipped the bandage short, and Minseok taped it down as Kibum sat down again.   
                "Kibum," Minho said as Kibum got situated. "I want you to meet my daughter."   
                "Really?" Kibum's face brightened.   
                Minho nodded.  
                "Minho," Minseok said quietly, beginning to sterilize and pack up his medical instruments. "Now might not be a good time for Iseul to have any strange visitors. She's still pretty shaken, and her pneumonia's acting up again." Minseok fiddled with his brown robes.   
                Minho shut his eyes. "Okay." He exhaled heavily through his nose. "That's fine. We'll visit next week if she's feeling up to it. And tell her Papa will visit as soon as he's got things sorted out with the court officials, huh?" Minho thwacked Minseok on the knee lightly with his knuckles. "Thanks for patching me up, Brother." Grunting, Minho pushed himself into a sitting position.  
                "It's no problem," Minseok said, smiling. "I know you won't listen if I tell you to get some bed rest, but at least try to take it easy, okay? Kibum's kind of right about you being too hard on your body."   
                Kibum gave a smug I-told-you-so grin and Minho shot him a disgusted glance. "Whatever you say," Minho grumbled, scooting to the edge of the infirmary bed.   
                "I'll make sure he stays vertical for at least a little while, Brother Minseok. Don't worry," Kibum said, standing from his chair to help Minho to his feet.   
                Minseok chuckled. "It's nice to see you two together again." Both Kibum and Minho colored, and Minseok ushered them out the door.

                                XL.

                The next few days following after Kibum's attempted execution and the reveal of their relationship were filled with tension and awkward sidelong glances exchanged between Minho and the other elite five in the halls. Kibum tried his hardest to keep Minho bed-bound, but Minho would have none of it, naturally. He had court matters and civilian problems to deal with. He had to figure out how to repair the damaged royal compound in such a way that would keep out the North Koreans for good. He had to make sure his troops were okay. He had to keep an eye on Luhan. He had to keep an eye on the guard staff. He even had to keep an eye on Kibum.   
                There was almost too much for Minho to do, and there was definitely too much hatred brewing within all members of Minho's elite five. As much as Minho wished he could put it off, it couldn't be avoided any longer. A unit without harmony is a useless unit. Minho called a meeting.   
                All six of them gathered, begrudgingly, in their usual sealed-off meeting room. Jinki was the last person inside, and slid the heavy lock shut. All sat down, and tension gnawed at them like a dog worrying a bone.   
                "Why are we like this?" Minho asked.  
                No one could take their eyes off the extra body in the room, standing right behind Minho's shoulder.   
                "Why's he here?" Kris spat.   
                No one budged. Lay's hands fluttered nervously under the stone table.   
                Minho looked around at each person at the table, then cleared his throat and put an elbow on the tabletop. "It seems there's quite a few things we need to clear up," Minho said, then sighed. Still no one budged. "Whatever rumors you all have heard, or spread," Minho looked pointedly at Luhan. "are probably true." It was then that everyone began to shift uneasily in their seats.   
                "What do you mean?" Kris growled, folding his arms.   
                "Let's see," Minho said, leaning forward. "This guy behind me? Tell me all you've heard."  
                Jinki cleared his throat. "He's a North Korean and he's leader of the freedom fighters.   
                "You two are… lovers," Tao offered timidly. Minho knew Tao had figured that bit out on his own.   
                "You saved him after an electrobike accident?" Kris furrowed his eyebrows.   
                "You two… have a plan to overthrow North Korea using the citizen forces on North Korea's planet," Lay almost whispered, staring directly at Luhan across the table. They'd both heard that piece of information straight from Minho's own lips.   
                "All true," Minho said after a moment. "And we all know that Luhan is on a probation of sorts for disrespecting my authority, correct?" Luhan looked embarrassedly at his hands. "Luhan, I don't think I'll be getting rid of that probation any time soon." Minho leaned back in his chair again. "So let's get some things straight," he continued. "Yes, Kibum and I are a thing, and yes to everything else you guys just said. There is a plan, too. So we need you five to be so cooperative from now on, regardless of any prejudices you might have against the North Korean people, which I know at least a few of you hold personal grudges." He pressed his mouth into a firm line. "Can we agree to that? Can we work together with a North Korean to secure peace once and for all?"   
                The elite five exchanged uneasy glances.   
                "I can agree to that," Luhan said.   
                All eyes turned to him.   
                "Thank you… Luhan." Minho smiled.   
                Luhan gave a curt nod. He looked slightly nauseas.   
                The following silence pressed in on everyone from all sides.  
                "I, too, agree," Jinki piped up.   
                "Me too," Tao added.  
                "As do I." Lay sighed and gave a sad smile.  
                "I agree too, since everyone else is," Kris huffed. Tao gave him a swift elbow to the ribcage.   
                "Thanks, everyone," Minho said with a bright grin. "Now, I'm sure you all want to hear about Kibum and I's plan." Minho was met with five pairs of pleading eyes.  
                Minho felt Kibum's hand on his shoulder, and he knew Kibum wanted it to be his turn to speak. Kibum stepped forward and Minho shot a warm glance up at him. "You all know the side of North Korea that is militaristic and cruel—all of us do. But behind that barrier, our people are united as one, and want the same thing that you all want. Peace." Kibum looked each of the elite five in the eye. They all tensed. "For quite a while now, the freedom fighters have been sending emissaries to Exo to find anyone—anyone!—who would be willing to help us." Kibum began to pace around the perimeter of the table. "But I learned recently from Minho that all those people we sent over had been killed publicly as government spies."  
                Luhan and Lay visibly stiffened. Lay's eyes darted around wildly before he dropped his head into his hands. Kibum paused.   
                "If only we knew then," Luhan whispered.   
                Kibum looked to Minho, puzzled.   
                "Both Luhan and I lost our parents in those public slaughterings, after a series of them went horribly awry," Lay muttered, his head still clutched in his hands.  
                A different kind of silence settled over them.   
                "I am so sorry," Kibum whispered.   
                "It's okay." Luhan squirmed in his seat. "You can go on talking."   
                Kibum stared long and hard at the pair before carrying on. "The freedom fighters on North Korea's planet, Cassiopeia, have been waiting for many years now for an opportunity to join forces with the South Korean people and overthrow the North Korean government and military. That opportunity is before us now." Kibum resumed pacing. "Right now, I have two freedom fighter spies planted in the North Korean army as Lieutenants. I've heard you all have fought them, too." The elite five all looked sideways at each other.   
                "Who…" Tao began, leaning forward. "Who are the spies?"  
                "Chanyeol and Sehun."   
                Tao leaned back, nodding. He glanced at Kris, whose eyebrows shot up into his messy honey-blonde hair.   
                "Anyway, Chanyeol and Sehun have all the information we need about the North Korean army." Kibum came to the place he started, behind Minho's shoulder. He put his hands on the back of Minho's chair. "The plan is to essentially stage a giant rebellion—or at least that's what we've been calling it."  
                "What it truthfully will turn out to be on our planet, however, is more like a full-frontal attack on the North Korean base," Minho said, folding his hands on top of the stone table.   
                The five warriors around the table remained quiet still, not moving, shock still. Minho put his tongue in his cheek. These men were still hesitant, Minho could tell. Regardless of the fact that many of them had past scars involving the North Koreans, and even Minho had his own, but if Minho could stand to work with the North Korean freedom fighters, then so could his pack of hand-selected warriors. And honestly, the manner with which these five was pissing Minho off.  Minho stood up.  
                "Listen," he said, shutting his eyes for a moment. "If we as a small group can't fight as a whole and full team, we will never be victorious." Minho opened his eyes. "I selected you five to fight as a formless team years ago because I believed you all had the courage, character and loyalty to this planet and its just cause to fight with me regardless of circumstance. I truly believed that, and I trusted you. I understand that it's hard to get past hatred for the enemy but right now we have to join together and this attitude I'm getting," Minho slapped a hand down on the table, and the company jumped in surprise. " _has_ to stop. We don't have a choice. _You_ don't have a choice. Fight with me for peace right now, or don't fight at all."  
                Minho's last words sliced through the air like a knife, and the silence afterward bled from it.   
                "Luhan," Minho addressed the man in a cutting voice spoke through clenched teeth. "You lost your parents to North Korea. Lay too. Does it seem right to continue killing, after we already lost so many people who are dear to us?" Luhan and Lay both shook their heads. Minho bit his lower lip, his insides shaking. Who were they to think that they were oh-so special because they lost parents to the North Koreans? Did anyone care that Minho had an older brother that he had never knew because North Koreans murdered him? "This… _mindless_ killing needs to stop. We need peace and we need it now and the only way we're going to get it at this point is if we help the North Korean citizens who also so desperately want peace achieve it. Do you understand?" Minho's hands clenched into angered fists. He was shaking with rage and despair. It felt like his body was on fire, emotions coursing up and down his frame. Kibum reached out and rubbed a cool hand on Minho's back, hoping to calm him.   
                Suddenly, Tao stood up from his chair, sending it scooting back with a loud scrape. "I'll fight," he said in a low, sharp voice. "Minho, I'm with you to the bitter end, no matter what the plan is." Tao turned his dark feline eyes on Minho and stared him down with equal intensity.   
                "I'll fight too," Kris said, his low voice resonating around the room. Tao and Kris exchanged a knowing sideways glance. "My archers will, too."  
                "I'm in," Lay and Jinki said in unison, each standing up a half a beat off from the other. They looked at each other and smiled.   
                Luhan was the only one left sitting. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table. Sucking in a long breath, Luhan stood up. "I'll help as best I can."  
                "Thank you, everyone," Minho said, looking earnestly at each person around the table. "In the next few months, Kibum and I will be cementing the plan and running communications with the rebel base on Cassiopeia. Be on the ready for anything, and we'll alert you when we've got everything in place and are ready to start moving."   
                "Thanks again," Kibum added. He broke into a dimply smile.   
                "You can go now," Minho said, dipping his chin in a nod.   
                Luhan was the first to head for the door, unlocking it and easily slipping out. It didn't surprise Minho one bit. Sighing, Minho pushed his chair in, and turned towards Kibum, who put a steadying hand on Minho's arm. Minho hadn't even noticed that he was swaying and pitching with dizziness. "Minho, you okay?" Kibum asked in a low voice.   
                "Dizzy," Minho muttered. His head was swimming and his shoulder throbbed. He exerted himself too much, he could tell.   
                "Lay down soon," Kibum said quietly, giving Minho's arm a comforting squeeze. Minho shut his eyes tightly.  
                Almost all the elite five had trickled out of the room save for Tao and Kris. Kris held the door open, but Tao looked at the two with bright eyes. "Can I ask some questions?" He asked once Kibum tore his eyes away from Minho. Minho scoffed internally. Tao had never suffered any kind of North Korean-related childhood trauma, of course he was going to be curious.   
                "Of course," Kibum said. "Let's walk, though. I need to get Minho somewhere he can lay down." Kibum started making his way to the door, pulling Minho along by the elbow.   
                "Sure," Tao followed along, and Kris held the door open for all of them. They started making their way down the hall in the direction of the royal family's chambers as Tao started firing questions. "How long have your spies been planted in the North Korean military?"   
                Kibum thought for a moment. He counted the years. "Eight? Something like that. A long time."   
                Tao whistled. "Wow." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "So what about training? Do you train your men?"  
                "We're more of a citizen organization than a military operation," Kibum said, cocking his head to the side. "Also it's hard to train a large mass of people without getting found out."  
                "That makes sense," Tao commented. "Okay, so who runs operations on your planet? Since you're the leader and all." Kris delivered Tao a swift poke in the back. Tao turned around and shot him the fastest glare, but Tao knew too that he was asking a lot of questions.  
                Minho heaved a heavy sigh. "Well," Kibum said, latching both hands on Minho's elbow. "There's Shim and Jung. I mean Shim Changmin and Jung Yunho. They run everything on Cassiopeia for the freedom fighters. Yunho was leader before I was; he was the person who requested that I be the one to hold the position of leader after him. Yunho knows how to run everything, but Changmin is an expert on guerilla warfare and strategy. I think we'll be talking to Changmin the most in the coming months." Kibum cleared his throat. "Any other questions?" Minho pointed at a door in the hallway; his bedroom.  
                "No," Tao said, shaking his head.  
                "Okay." Kibum smiled. "If you have any more questions just come and find me and I'll answer all I can."   
                "Thanks," Tao returned the smile and Kris bored holes in his back with laser eyes. "I definitely will if I can think of anything else." Tao gave a small wave as Minho ducked into his room and Kibum followed.  
                Minho nearly collapsed as soon as Tao was gone and they were inside. Kibum, still clinging tightly to his elbow, ushered him to his giant king-size bed and helped him to sit.  
                "Lay down," Kibum commanded.   
                Minho laid down.  
                Kibum climbed onto the bed and nestled himself beside Minho, snaking an arm around his torso—the same position they'd slept in for several nights running. Minho let out a low, happy sigh.  
                "So what exactly was that meeting about?" Kibum asked. "Aside from the obvious."  
                Minho stared at the ceiling for a long moment before answering. "I've known those five for a very long time," Minho began, slowly. "And I guess you can say I just instinctually know when something's up, or when something's bothering all of them." It was a mother's instincts of sorts. It was easy for Minho to tell when the group was upset or shaken; the air got tense and jittery, and the five members lost their staunch and brave demeanors. Each and every one grew taciturn in nature, and frighteningly quickly, at that. "I needed to resolve the problems they were having and get them a little more pumped up again, if you catch my drift."  
                 Kibum nodded against Minho's shoulder. "I see. You take really good care of those five," Kibum said warmly.  
                "I'd be nothing without them."   
   
               

               

 

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